


Sin

by Anonymous



Category: John 5 - Fandom, Marilyn Manson (Band), Nine Inch Nails (Band), Slipknot (Band), Tim Sköld (Musician)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Mob, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Blow Jobs, Breeding, Dominance, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Drugged Sex, Dubious Consent, Edgeplay, Gags, Genderbending, Gun Kink, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, Humiliation, Kink Negotiation, Light Bondage, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Making Out, Male Escort, Mirror Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Nipple Torture, Orgasm Denial, Rape Fantasy, Rape Roleplay, Rimming, Seduction, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-17 21:41:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 55,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21700180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A collection.(DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the people depicted. The personalities portrayed do not portray actual personalities. It is simply a character formed from an inspiration in reality, however reality is not a key ingredient to these stories. All rights reserved to the stories as the stories are mine.)
Relationships: John 5/Jim Root, John 5/Marilyn Manson, John 5/Tim Sköld, John 5/Trent Reznor, Marilyn Manson/Trent Reznor
Comments: 90
Kudos: 106
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Into You

**Author's Note:**

> You know the drill. Don't like? Don't read!  
> I've placed my disclaimer in the summary and do not own anything except the stories I create. Those are mine.  
> Give me some love if you enjoyed and I can't wait to read your comments and see your kudos!

Trent always was a nervous wreck, something that both intrigued and amused Brian. The occasional hand through the hair, the bobbing of his knees while his feet tapped anxiously where he sat, his eyes, as green as rain-soaked leaves, fluttering about the room in an almost worrisome way- Brian enjoyed it all, chuckled over each scenario in his head. He especially loved being the main cause of his nervous frustrations. 

“Something on your mind?”

Despite the dimly lit seat of the booth mixing with the stringed, colored lights of the infamous “Rainbow”, Brian knew the anxious way about Trent like the back of his hand. He didn’t just want to go, he wanted to _get out,_ make his escape from the sweaty, greasy intentions of every individual within this fascination joint. When he finally laid eyes on Brian, the latter noticed how large his eyes were, pupils not as dilated as before; the coke was wearing off. Brian smiled somewhat thoughtfully. 

Trent wrinkled his nose. “Think we can leave soon? I’m not feeling it.” 

Brian sat up straighter against the booth, folded his hands, frowned. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be into is.” This was not entirely true. Sometimes Brian enjoyed riling up Trent, experimenting on him until he walked away angry, scarred, or aroused, perhaps a bit of all three; it was such fun seeing him get all wound up, but this time he just looked uncomfortable. And that almost bothered Brian. Almost. 

With his nose scrunched and his brow furrowed, Trent appeared as a bewildered mess, but every feature on his face shifted into that of shock immediately. 

“What the fuck?” He yelled it, loud enough for others in neighboring seats to hear it and turn curiously, and scooted out of the booth, absolutely perplexed and frazzled down to the bone. 

Sure enough, a head peaked out from underneath the table cloth coyly and Trent, green eyes blazing, stared right back, almost seething. 

“Get. Out.” 

Brian thought he sounded a bit venomous, but without another word spoken, the girl abruptly left with a fearful step, and everyone else resumed their drinks. Trent sat back down with a frustrated huff, flustered, red-faced, and probably a little aroused. 

Brian laughed outright to ease the tension and drained his glass. “Come on, Trent, what’s a little blow job between two adult strangers?” 

Growling under his breath, Trent glowered, “I don’t think I gave consent.”

“All the gods before our time had their dicks sucked right at this very table,” Brian sighed, banging his finger down on said table to prove a point. “Nikki Sixx. Jimmy Page...”

Rolling his eyes and huffing out a puff of air, Trent tried to figure out if Brian was teasing him or just being malicious. Sometimes it was difficult to distinguish between the two. 

“Look, can’t we just go?”

Like a light switch flipping on in his head, Brian heard the cry for help in Trent’s voice, saw the urgency and anxiety in his eyes, and decided to give in. 

“All right, we’ll go,” he said quietly. 

Brian couldn’t understand what had gotten into Trent all of a sudden. It was as though something had climbed into his head and started to shift the gears in a more than erratic way. A little mouse running in frantic little circles. “What was that back there?”

Trent’s face visibly reddened, and he looked away, breathing out softly. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he murmured quietly. Slumping further in his seat in the back of the cab they were in, Brian watched Trent closely like a hawk. As if he could sense the eyes on him, Trent shot him a look. “I don’t,” he stated firmly. Brian threw up his hands in defeat. 

The rest of the ride went by in silence. 

The door to Trent’s room slammed shut and the lights went out. That was that. Brian sighed, and bent to scratch Maise behind the ear. Anything to distract from the looming thoughts that wracked his brain. Thoughts of how cute and vulnerable Trent looked this evening. At this point, he had no shame in thinking about him this way; it was Trent with the hard, trembling shell. One crack and he could fall to millions of pieces and probably never speak to him again. Brian couldn’t allow that. He had to remind himself to take this slow, not rush anything. Perhaps he wanted Trent to question the way things were, but he did not want to scare him away. 

Brian fell asleep thinking about him and ended up dreaming about him instead. 

Brian moaned awake. Last night’s dream seemed almost too real and it left him with even more feelings than he could sort out. Some of them carnal. 

He felt it surge down towards his groin, and when he reached down to touch it underneath the sheets, Brian promptly moaned again. One little flick of his finger and Brian felt as though he could come right then and there. The small voice of reason however, reminded him that Trent was just in the next room fast asleep. 

This was nothing a cold shower couldn’t fix. 

Brian instantly regretted his decision as soon as it rained icy cold on his back. He almost shrieked, but waited long enough for the water to run warm eventually, hugging himself and shivering violently. Nearly the rest of the time he remained in there kept him relaxed, at ease, and the thought of jacking off almost slipped his mind. Almost. 

The bathroom door opened abruptly, shocking Brian back to the present. He certainly did not expect Trent to stand there, the shower curtain slightly parted, eyes boring into his flesh; if his eyes were ember coals, Brian would be left burns all over his body. What was really only a few seconds of staring seemed like a few hours, and Brian almost snickered. Grinning wickedly, Brian stared back, caught his eye, and succeeded in making a nice rosy blush fan out over his pale cheeks. 

“Like what you see?” he leered to which Trent snorted. 

“Just needed to take a piss,” he muttered under his breath.

Once he finally left, Brian spent the rest of his shower rubbing one out to those eyes raking over his body. 

He certainly didn’t know what to make of this.

Quite the sight. Every feverish breath, every stroke of the hand and fingers, every time Trent shifted urgently in bed to buck up his hips, eyes rolling back in his head because if felt that good. 

Brian swallowed hard. 

It was when he began sucking on his finger that Brian knew with the utmost certainty that he wanted to see more. More sweat. More shaking from his limbs and stuttering from his chest. He wanted to hear more, savor every sound from Trent’s raw, red lips, swallow his moans. Releasing his finger from his full lips, Trent spread his legs, brought his knees to his chest, offering a full view to Brian watching silently (as silently as he could) from behind the door. Then he softly, gently began to stroke his hole in slow, deliberate circles. 

Brian gasped with him when he finally slipped inside. 

Trent spat into the palm of his free hand and began to work himself over the edge again while maintaining a steady thrusting of his finger into his ass. Each thrust sent him spasming in euphoria, shameless moans running from his perfect mouth. Brian longed so much to moan with him. Every brush of the tips of his fingers inside him sent more waves of pleasure to his already turgid cock. Realization hit Brian. He was finally looking at it. It was a rather nice looking cock, not too big, not too small, and Brian’s mouth watered at the delicious thought of going down on him. The sounds he’d make. 

Trent looked so fucking filthy at this moment, the moment where all of Brian’s fantasies were slowly yet surely coming true. His cock was practically leaking, spilling pre-cum over his tummy. The only thing he wore was his t-shirt, half-raised, his nipples hard and his chest heaving violently. All Brian wanted to do was suck on them and bring him to completion just from his mouth alone. And he knew he could do it. 

“Please, Brian…”

The self-proclaimed “god of fuck” gave a start at hearing his name being moaned like that, and for a moment of panic, he thought he had noticed him from behind the door. Trent’s eyes were closed however, closed tight, mouth open in bliss, while his fingers brought him closer and closer over the edge. He was fantasizing. Fantasizing about him. Brian reeled, only realizing now that his hand slipped in his pants just to feel how hard he was. Rock hard. Brian felt as though he could burst. 

The sight of it had been too fucking perfect, like watching a precious fallen angel come, and Brian found that this was his second time thinking about it that night. His second time with Trent in the room with him, unknowing, ignorant of what he knew. The second time he gave his thoughts to temptation. Trent  _wanted_ Brian. 

Intimately. Carnally. Brian still could not believe it. The most precious creature in the world wanted him to fuck him. Brian certainly shared the same sentiment; what he would not give to press his body against him, hold him in place, feel his heart beat in time with his. It left a sort of bittersweet taste on his tongue. He was not just going to jump him and expect Trent to reciprocate his feelings despite the evidence prior. No, he had some self-control, didn’t he?

Trent’s eyes flitted over the various knobs and switches of his soundboard and a pounding beat began to play. A few moans were added to the beginning and Brian wondered what type of fetish porn Trent had discovered this time. Trent’s gaze was intense as he calmly listened, and often he raised his hand to his mouth, elbows resting on the edge, a pose of quiet thought and deep concentration. Occasionally, he would turn and twist a few knobs until the finished product pleased him. Brian stared at those fingers. 

Those fingers were inside him and wrapped around his cock. 

Brian blinked. Self-control.

“Need something, Brian?”

He hardly noticed he had wound up right behind him, practically breathing down his neck. But Trent certainly did. Brian found himself face to face with him, staring into those vivid green eyes. 

Self-control? Right. Self-control.

_Fuck_ self-control. 

Brian’s hands were on Trent before he could think things through, one hand wrapping around the back of his neck and the other moving down to grip his hip. His nails dug in as he pulled him in close, and Brian caught a whiff of Trent’s sweet cologne before he smashed his mouth rather forcefully against his. A surprised and muffled cry escaped Trent’s lips, and Brian swallowed it down, turning his head at an angle just so he could kiss him deeper. Somewhere in the back of his senses, he felt Trent struggle, felt his arm and elbow locked in his tight embrace, the back of his hand pressed against his chest and pushing desperately. 

But his lips were so soft and his skin was so smooth. Brian groaned into the kiss, heard Trent breathing heavily against him. For a brief second, Brian had to stop himself, hoping it was simply the sound of Trent enjoying it too. One final push however, and Brian finally caught the message and backed off, panting just as heavily as Trent. Trent’s face was flushed, hair wild and mussed, and he stared hard at Brian, sending a wave of burning heat his way and making it his turn to blush. Trent’s expression was unreadable, and Brian grew nervous. 

“What the fuck.”

Trent’s voice sounded about as blank as his countenance looked, and Brian froze. Then he stammered. 

“I, uh… I’m sorry…”

Trent continued to stare. Just stared. That’s all he did, and Brian found his vocabulary go out the window. 

“Sorry… Sorry…” he murmured over and over again, averting his gaze and finding a more interesting spot on the floor to stare at. 

The silence was straining and increased the tension for what seemed like painfully long hours. Brian never felt more stupid in his life, and he desperately wanted to be anywhere but here. The way Trent’s lovely eyes bore into him gave him chills, and he knew he had made a mistake. For one last time, Brian opened his mouth to attempt at forming a coherent sentence, but again he failed. 

Forgetting the English language and his resolve to explain himself, Brian made his escape, avoiding Trent’s eyes and making his way out of the studio. 

The feeling of Brian’s hands all over him lingered when Trent finally decided to leave. His hand grasping his neck and his hip left invisible handprints, feeling like he had marked him up, making him feel  _dirty._ Should it have bothered him? Perhaps. Instead, Trent was more shocked than anything. He admitted deep down that he adored the glorious sensation of Brian’s hands roaming over his body, manhandling him, dreamed of it, longed for it, but when the moment came, Trent froze, tentative, and Brian mistook his caution for anger. 

If he tried to speak up himself, his words failed him, and then Brian made his escape to his dismay. 

Trent did want Brian; somehow he had always known that deep down but the moment arrived and Trent knew he could not let those feelings surface. He was too afraid. Perhaps his trust waned. So many had used him, fucked him over, left him in the pit to suffer and pick himself up on his own. How could Brian be any different? He would do the same, wouldn’t he? Trent had to accept that and leave things as they were. It was for the best. Stay in his hole and do what he knew best. 

But the way Brian held him just now, possessively, tenderly, passionately; Trent had not been touched like that in a long time. He almost forgot what it felt like, and he found his desire for Brian strengthened, rising to a boil, ready to bubble over. He longed to kiss those full, delicious-looking lips again, feel them graze his flesh, bring him to release. A shiver of arousal ran up and down his spine at the thought that wouldn’t go away, greatly outweighing his thoughts of uncertainty and fear. It was more than lust although Trent did not think he was ready to admit what it really was. 

When Brian addressed him silently once he entered the living area later that night, his eyes were full of anxiety, and Trent almost pitied him. Then he took his seat next to Brian, who instantly stiffened behind his bottle of beer. Trent watched him take long gulps in his peripheral vision, heard the liquid slide down his slender throat, and felt his own heart thump wildly in his chest. As soon as Brian set down the bottle of warm beer, the entire room seemed to spin, and Trent wound up in his lap, straddling his waist and taking the upper hand by burying his fist in Brian’s thick, jet black hair and pulling his head back so he could look him right in the eyes. 

Brian saw him quiver on top of him though he tried very hard to maintain his dominance, and then those lips smashed against his ardently, fervently, and the spinning came to a stop. Trent trembled violently against him, but his mouth knew what to do, and time seemed on a standstill with the way his soft lips brushed against Brian’s. It was wet and sloppy and unexpected; Trent introduced his tongue with their mouths and breaths and Brian opened up eagerly, finally seeing Trent’s carnal, sensual poetry come to life with his lips. With every caress of his mouth, Brian felt as though he was singing those pained lyrics, and he closed his eyes, his limbs rendered useless, allowing himself to give in. 

When Trent finally broke away, leaving a strand of spit in between them, Brian’s eyes gazed back into his, his cheeks flushed pink. He wet his lips to speak but only managed one word. 

“Trent…”

“How does it feel?” the latter interjected breathily. He kissed him again, softer, quicker this time, lips just brushing over his tenderly. Brian held on this time, grasping his hips and pulling him in closer. The heat that radiated between the two of them mingled with their breaths, and Brian felt his blood run hot because of it. Trent’s shirt rode up just a bit giving Brian the opportunity to admire his smooth, exposed skin. A thumb caressed Trent’s hip, and a hand smoothed up his tummy towards his chest underneath his shirt. The other hand followed, and Trent’s breath hitched when Brian’s thumbs brushed over his nipples.

Brian liked that sound. It made him want to swallow him whole. 

“Feels good,” he finally responded grinning deviously. 

Trent bit his bottom lip, feeling the heat rise to his face when Brian stroked his more sensitive parts again. He seemed to enjoy making him melt, and for a brief second of panic, Trent wondered where exactly this was going. 

Noticing his apprehension, Brian attacked like a cat, his hand snaking out to grip Trent’s chin, forcing him to look him in the eyes. As shy as he always seemed, Brian appeared to tap into his typical stage presence, that of domination and fear and maybe a little bit of pain. The fear and pain flitted over Trent’s eyes, but the corners of his mouth turned slightly upward. He fucking liked being handled this way, and he trembled in anticipation. 

“I want you, Trent,” Brian almost growled, pressing his lips to his once more and adding tooth and tongue. Trent gasped and moaned when Brian’s teeth bit into his lower lip. He almost bit hard enough to nearly draw blood, and Trent winced, a sob-like moan breaking through from the back of his throat. Brian relished it and broke away, pulling him down flush against him. He did not say much else, and Trent found he did not need him to. He saw reassurance simply from his body and lips pressing against his. Pure, utter bliss with just a hint of pain- just the way he liked it. 

“Please,” Trent uttered softly, moaning and rutting against him. Brian did not seem to hear him; he was far too pleasantly occupied in raising his shirt, exposing him further, and mouthing drunkenly, sloppily at his chest. His tongue flicked and sucked at hard nipples while his fingers followed. Trent felt his vision darken in euphoria, and he nearly fell back if it wasn’t for Brian’s arm wrapped around his waist. When he spoke again, his voice was shaky. 

“Please fuck me…” Brian grazed his flesh with his teeth, and he whined through closed lips. “…before I… rethink my decision…”

Brian moved back up instantly, face to face with him, hands gripping waist, eyes dark and heated and filled with lust. 

“Can’t go back now,” he growled most definitely. “I’m not running away this time.” A hand gripped Trent’s chin once again, though harder. “And neither are you.” The chills that surged through Trent’s body were thrilling and he shuddered in arousal, waiting. Brian’s lips were no longer on him; his hands took their place, holding fast to him, wrapping his arms around his waist possessively. He was strong, felt strong holding Trent this way, and Trent suddenly felt safe, held by Brian, the intimacy apparent and soft and warm. One last smoldering kiss from Brian and it grew hot, so hot and Trent found himself stumbling backwards, wrapped up in him, drowning in his kisses and caresses as he led him urgently out of the room and towards his bedroom. 

Trent felt his back hit the bed, but his lips never left Brian’s, and he moaned muffled against him, running his long piano fingers through his thick, black hair. Brian had him pinned, took those hands and held them over his head, pressing himself down on his body. Trent’s chest heaved when he finally caught a chance to breathe and Brian watched it, mesmerized, smoothing up his shirt with his hands as he had done before. Breathing heavily, Trent was flushed, the skin of his cheeks and nose a light pink. His nipples were hard against the cool air, begging to be sucked by Brian’s mouth and in immediate response he leaned down again, lips and tongue caressing the trembling flesh but only for a minute. 

Trent’s breath slowed, grew heavier as he made his way down, and he knew this was the point of no return, no going back now; Brian had just now started to unzip his pants with long fingers. Hooking them in the waist band of his pants, Brian gave a gentle tug, as if asking for permission, and Trent silently nodded, his eyes pleading with him to go on, please, go on. This was complete and utter consent. Trent wanted him to do this, and finally getting the answer he wanted, Brian dragged the jeans off his legs and flung them somewhere in the room.

Flushed, Trent shivered as soon as the offending piece of clothing was off his body and immediately sat up, raising his arms and allowing Brian to remove his shirt. Exactly what he wanted to see, nearly every bit of him exposed and vulnerable before his eyes, trembling beneath his gaze. Brian smirked at the visible outline of his quivering cock underneath his underwear and ran a single finger down it, pleased with the way Trent involuntarily bucked his hips up just to get him to touch him more. When Brian withdrew his hand, Trent whimpered in protest and instantly pouted, turning his head to the side. The former chuckled. 

“You’re always so whiny, Reznor,” Brian remarked with a smirk. “I suppose I prefer seeing you like this now. All desperate. Just for me. Just waiting to come.”

“Fuck you, Brian,” Trent growled, closing his legs and groaning as if that would give him any relief. It didn’t, and he huffed in frustration, waiting impatiently for Brian’s next move. 

“Oh I intend to,” Brian grinned, running a hand up Trent’s side which caused him to lean into the touch, practically raising his whole body to meet his hand. Brian decided it was going to be a ton of fun teasing the ever-loving shit out of Trent. 

“Get on your stomach for me.”

Trent was quick to obey and immediately rolled over, letting out another whimper. Brian ran his hand down his clothed bum, hooking his finger in the waistband, pulling at it, and snapping it back. This earned him more pleased sounds from the small man below him. Trent practically cooed when he slowly began to pull them down. 

“Did you shower?” 

Blinking once at the abrupt question, Trent turned his head and nodded. “Cleaned out.” His rosy blush was visible.

Brian grinned, running the back of his finger between the cleft of his two exposed cheeks. “Really?” he inquired slowly. That devilish grin broadened. He wanted to try something, something that surprisingly he never tried. Climbing into bed so that he was directly behind Trent, Brian reached ahold of his hips and yanked them back so that his ass was in the air, perfect for viewing. And other things, Brian thought playfully. 

Trent yelped when he pulled him back in such a vulnerable position, and pressed his lips together so that he wouldn’t make another embarrassing noise. Brian’s abrupt power grab made him tremble, and he waited, silently pleading with him to make a move. He heard a low, pleased moan and then felt those large hands grab his cheeks and part them. Trent’s breath hitched sharply and he rose only slightly on his elbows, an action Brian stopped instantly with a hand to his back, shoving him down once more.

“Bri-”

“Mmm...” Brian only hummed as he leaned down, and Trent gasped, not expecting a warm, wet, and very intrusive tongue touching him there. Just as soon as he had gasped out of shock, he mewled softly and shuddered, collapsing back down against the warm mattress and pillows. His back was arched in the most beautifully obscene way, the curve of his spine accentuated, the dimples in his back looking utterly kissable. Brian thought he looked so fuckable just like this, and the hunger that bubbled within his gut rose to a boil, making him let out a sort of ravenous growl against him. The vibrations of his tone made Trent whimper helplessly. 

“Do it… do it again,” Trent whined when he could draw breath and find his words. Brian drew back with a smirk, thumbing at his cheek tenderly while squeezing the other more dominantly, like he fucking owned him.

“Didn’t hear a ‘please’, did I?” Brian growled, spitting directly on his hole and making Trent gasp at the obscene sensation of Brian’s spit sliding down his ass. 

“Fuck- please!” Trent cried once Brian drew him close to him again, flush against his own clothed erection. Trent could practically feel it pulsing against his ass, and just to turn the tables, he decided it was his turn to be the fucking tease. Brian seemed to get the idea as he slowly, sensually began grinding his ass against him. Caught off guard, he just watched it all take place. Trent was hesitant and shy, a complete difference from his normal confidence and demanding persona in the studio, but he wanted to please Brian and tease him just to reap the benefits. Brian blinked and grinned maniacally, and Trent nearly froze when he heard him unzip his fly. 

“Brian…”

Trent’s deep, husky voice had grown soft, and when Brian glanced down, he stared up at him, eyes expectant and unsure. Trent rolled over onto his back and sat up on his knees. He looked so sweet and submissive for him just then, and Brian groaned inwardly, threading his fingers through his unkempt mop of black hair. Closing his eyes, Trent leaned into the touch and then spoke again. 

“Let me.”

Now face to face with him, Trent helped Brian shrug off his jacket, and it crumpled to the floor in a careless heap. He tugged on the hem of his shirt, and Brian raised his hands, aiding him in removing it. It was fluid, effortless the way Trent’s lips caressed his flesh. Brian sighed, and his heart quickened when Trent’s skillful fingers went to his pants. A sort of mischievous look crossed Trent’s face when he raised his eyes to him, and those pants dropped faster than Brian could blink. Trent’s eyes remained on him when he took him into his mouth for the first time, feigning innocence, feigning a docile sweetness; Brian felt so tempted to fuck his throat. 

Instead he marveled over this industrial god on his knees for him and sucking his cock. He cupped his balls gently, hollowed his cheeks, ran his tongue along the underside, sucked the head, tongued the slit. Brian was gone, easy, soft, and when he leaned his head back to moan, Trent hummed satisfactorily and the vibrations went straight to his cock. The hand in Trent’s hair tightened, pulling him off a little too forcefully. Trent merely blinked up at Brian, spit and pre-come dribbling down his chin, cheeks flushed, hair mussed. He grinned. 

“Told you I was good at giving head.”

Brian practically leered and grasped his chin, pulling him up roughly by his hair and smashing his lips against his. He heard the whine from the back of Trent’s throat when he introduced his tongue and yanked a little more harshly on his hair, and Brian grinned against his lips triumphantly. When he pulled back, Trent’s lips were raw, wet, bitten red, and he relished it. 

“I don’t want to come just yet, you little fucking tease,” Brian growled. Closely, in his ear, he rasped, “I need to be inside you.”

The whine was more apparent this time when Trent begged, “Get a condom. And lube.” 

An order Brian could obey. He returned with a few orders of his own. “Get on your back and spread your legs. Let me see your ass.”

Trent blushed but did as he was told, eyeing Brian on his knees before him on the bed, squeezing lube out over his fingers. When he leaned in close, Trent’s blush deepened at the short, tender kiss on the cheek, but he sucked in a short breath at the slick finger gently rubbing his hole in circular motions. Another gasp broke from his lips once it slipped inside, and Trent heard Brian softly groan with him. 

“Another?” 

Trent nodded, swallowing another moan. “Please-!” Two fingers slipped inside. That was a little harder. Brian’s fingers were much different than his own, longer, able to reach places he couldn’t. And when he did, curling them ever so slightly, Trent gave a small cry of arousal and alarm. Concern etched in Brian’s eyes, and he stopped just to check on him. 

“Do that… do that again!” Trent breathed, clutching his arms for support. Brian chuckled and complied, and Trent melted in his arms. After the third finger, Trent become a mere puddle of nerves, whimpers, trembling. His breath felt hot against Brian’s neck, and Brian felt the heated need between them both.

“Please, Brian,” Trent’s eyes were large with desire. Brian gazed deep into his eyes, waiting. “Fuck me.”

Brian wasted no time and reached for the lube and condom. His cock ached at this point, throbbed to be inside of him and he worried he’d come too soon. He fumbled with the condom, but seeing his struggle, Trent reached for it himself, then the lube, sitting up and squeezing copious amounts on Brian’s cock. His hands certainly didn’t help, seeming more of a tease than an aid, and the innocent smile on Trent’s face told him so. 

“Come here,” he growled, tackling Trent on his back again and pleased with the laugh in return. That’s when he realized it had been a while since he had really smiled, really laughed during sex. Brian supposed that was just how Trent made him feel. “Turn over.” Trent whimpered and obeyed, ass up for Brian, elbows resting against the pillow. He waited, blinking over his shoulder at Brian, and that’s when the latter realized he forgot to ask one of the most important questions. 

“Have you…” Brian cleared his throat nervously, “have you done this before?” Trent paused and shook his head, biting his lip and looking as nervous as the man above him. Brian smiled assuredly. “I’ll go slow.” The kiss promised him he would.

At the first intrusion, Trent sucked in a breath and automatically tightened, every muscle in his body going taut like a rope pulled too hard. Brian clicked his tongue and ran his thumb over the small of his back soothingly. “Relax,” he murmured. “That was just my head.” Trent only whined, something arousing and unfitting for his low voice. “You okay to keep going?”

Trent wasn’t exactly sure what he was, but he nodded anyway. “Use more lube.”

Deep down, Brian knew it was because of his size, and he swelled with pride. After complying, Brian, hand on Trent’s back steadying him, pushed in another inch and responded in kind with every one of his reactions, soothing him with a caress, asking if he still wanted to continue, turning his head to kiss his brow. When he finally looked down, he was inside, up to the hilt and Trent’s upper half lay limp against the pillows and sheets. 

“Please move,” was all he could beg. 

“So pretty,” Brian groaned, giving one slow thrust inside him. It made Trent choke on air, and he scrabbled for the pillow, clinging desperately, hanging on for dear life. A small, four letter word fell from his lips, drenched in pain and ecstasy. The lust that filled his husky voice seemed to make Brian harder and he did it again with just a bit more force. Trent clenched around him at that and gave a small, short cry. Concern flecked in Brian’s eyes. “Am I hurting you?”

Trent kept his eyes squeezed shut, but he answered in a voice softer than his own, “I like the burn.”

Brian wasn’t satisfied yet and gently pulled out much to Trent’s dismay. “Turn over on your back.”

It was better this way gazing down upon his beautiful face all flushed. A few strands of his shaggy hair clung to his forehead, and tenderly Brian brushed them away, reeling over the smile Trent gave him afterwards. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Brian rasped and leaned in to graze his lips over his neck. Trent felt disconcerted, caught off guard; no one had every really used the word beautiful before, and he shivered under the sensation of Brian’s open-mouthed kisses on his neck and jaw, like he was trying to instill that belief in him. _You’re beautiful. You’re so fucking beautiful._ Trent’s eyes closed in bliss.

Brian’s hands were smoothing up the backs of his thighs, pushing them back when he looked up, and then he slowly pushed in again, pleased with the soft whimper in response. Trent’s hands automatically went to Brian’s shoulders, but they didn’t remain there for long. Instead Brian grabbed them both in one hand and pinned them above him head, instilling his possessiveness while rutting faster into him. 

“I just want to feel you beneath me,” he droned. “Just want to feel you writhe and squirm while I take you.” Brian moaned. “Can you feel me inside you? So deep.”

Trent gasped and moaned with him when he slammed into him and arched his back into his touch just to feel more, all wrapped up in him. Brian’s thrusts grew faster, desperate, sweat practically pouring off his body and mixing with Trent’s heat. It was getting hot, so hot, too hot; Trent wasn’t sure if he was going to pass out or come, and he keened at the abrupt, sharp thrust even deeper inside him. It seemed as though it was Brian’s intentions to have him all screamed out. He began to still, and as his thrusts became sharper, slower, sloppier, Trent almost felt the searing sensation of Brian coming even with the condom on. 

Brian moaned and cursed, fucking one last time into Trent with enough force to make him sob brokenly beneath him. He collapsed on top of him overexerted, hands buried in Trent’s hair, and pressed his lips against his with a deep groan. Trent swallowed it down, and his free hands raked through Brian’s long hair, smoothing over his shoulders, nails scratching down his back, grabbing and pulling at him as if to keep him inside. 

When Brian broke away, his lips pressed to his throat, his hand to his cheek, his other reaching down to rest his thigh against his hip. Trent closed his eyes, and his chest heaved so much he though his heart would burst. He so desperately needed to come, and Brian caught on, flashing him a devious smile and pecking him sweetly on the lips before gently pulling out and making his way down. He paused to nip and bite at the sensitive parts of his flesh, pleased with the moans and incoherent pleas he received, nursing the abused skin with caresses from his mouth. 

Once he reached his thighs, Brian peppered them with kisses, sucking harder in some places just to leave his mark. Trent grew impatient, nearly shrieking at the top of his lungs when the tip of Brian’s tongue just barely flicked over his head. 

“Come on, fucker,” he growled, shoving his head down and Brian chuckling teasingly in turn. As soon as his mouth made it all the way down, Trent was already gone, limp against the pillow and sheets. After a few bobs of Brian’s head, it didn’t take long for Trent to come, shooting down Brian’s throat with a ragged, broken moan. It was beautiful. Brian felt his back arch into him, felt those hands tug on his hair, felt him spasm and twitch and writhe beneath his mouth until he had nothing left to give. Every lovely sound that broke from his lips was like music to Brian’s ears, and he swallowed every last drop, moaning with him in the glorious overstimulation that left him weakly pulling him away. 

“Mmm… too much…”

Brian smiled, wiped his mouth, and then raised himself to kiss Trent once more, a deep kiss swallowing every whimper and sigh. Trent looked dazed when he broke away and then lazily smiled, relaxing back against the sheets. 

Neither of them knew what to say in the aftermath. Perhaps nothing needed to be said. Brian almost made a witty retort to what had just occurred. Almost. He stayed quiet wrapped up in Trent’s arms, skin pressed against his in a final moment of intimacy. Listening to his heart beat, the rhythm going down gradually, Brian placed a kiss there and remained where he was, in Trent’s embrace. 

At first, Trent did not know what to do, and Brian had no intention of leaving. He froze, overwhelmed by the affection he gave him, tender and blissful, and he wondered how he deserved all this, every caress, every kiss. As if Brian could feel his hesitance, his self restraint, he wrapped his arms around him tighter, pressing more kisses at his heart. 

Trent felt them and not just physically. Every kiss made his heart skip a beat until he finally reciprocated, leaving a gentle kiss at the top of Brian’s head, hands in his hair. And for that moment he had no intention of letting him go. 


	2. God Must Fall

Trent had an ego, and Brian fucking knew it.

Power and pride always came before a fall, and when Trent would finally fall, he would fall hard. All that control in the studio went straight to his head, Brian noticed, and if it was one thing he could not stand, it was being told what to do. Relentlessly. And Trent _loved_ telling Brian what to do, much to the latter’s dismay and frustration.

Brian however, considered himself to be pretty level-headed- when he was not on stage of course; that persona was merely an act. Brian was quiet when he was not doped, cool and calm as a cat, and he never let anyone read him unless it all remained on his terms.

So he was going to teach Trent a lesson.

Embarrassing him sounded fun of course; what Brian wouldn’t give to see Trent, _make_ Trent eat his own words, especially in front of his bandmates, even his manager, but this required more precision and a calm demeanor. Not to mention, Brian would not risk his band getting fired for his own reckless shenanigans. He was not _that_ careless.

So as he remained outside the door to Trent’s room, Brian knew it was the perfect time to exact his diabolical plan.

It was the heavy gasps and breaths that roused his interest first. Stuttering breaths, ragged rasps, repetitive, restless rustling from behind the door. Brian knew _exactly_ what he was doing before he softly opened it and peered inside.

Trent stood by a mirror in his room, one hand pressed against the wall and the other wrapped around his cock, relentlessly pumping up and down towards desperate completion. His cheeks were flushed, lips parted and wet, eyelashes fluttering so prettily. And he stared into the mirror like he was looking at the face of someone he wanted to fuck.

It was amusing quite honestly.

Brian stared in awe at the arousing spectacle and wet his lips. As much as this was the perfect time to humiliate him, teach him a lesson that he deserved, Brian decided he wanted to humiliate him even further. His fingers itched to grab ahold of those hips and fucking manhandle him the way he deserved to be handled. To use him, maybe abuse him a little, make him take his punishment like the little shit that he was. And for some reason, with one hand down his pants and the other starting to undo his belt, Brian had a feeling that he would like it.

The door swung wide open and then slammed shut, and Brian, in his daze, realized it was all his doing. Trent spun around, red-faced, flustered, hair wild, and cursed as soon as he saw who it was, shoving himself back into his pants. Chuckling lightly, Brian took a step forward.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” he droned in a deep, lazy voice.

Trent instantly bristled. “That’s not fucking funny. Get the fuck out of my room. What the fuck are you even doing here anyway?”

Shrugging, Brian replied nonchalantly, “Came to discuss the album and see if you wanted to get high later.” He grinned deviously. “But I see you’re already pre-occupied.” He crossed his arms, raised an eyebrow. “Huh.”

Trent’s blush deepened, and for a moment, he almost looked ashamed. “What did you see?”

“Everything,” Brian said simply and Trent visibly wilted. “Isn’t it a bit vain to masturbate in front of a mirror? Are you really that much in love with yourself?”

Trent scoffed and averted his eyes as he mumbled, “If you’re trying to humiliate me, it’s not working.”

Taking a step closer, Brian looked down at the noticeably smaller man before him and smiled, smirked really, pleased with the apparent size difference. Trent _was_ small and therefore, he looked less imposing and proud, and Brian fucking _liked_ it. It gave him the advantage of control, something he knew deep down Trent wanted to give up easily.

“Really?” Brian quite liked the way Trent’s eyes quivered when he got closer. “Because I think it is.” He glanced down pointedly at Trent’s obvious bulge, and his smile grew wicked. “And I think you like it.”

Trent’s eyes followed Brian’s, and his jaw tightened when he flared back up at him. “What do you want?” It sounded more like a statement than a question as though he knew the answer to that exactly.

“To humiliate you,” Brian sneered. “Keep up, will you? Although if you like it so much, then perhaps we can have some fun with this.” To prove his point, Brian moved his hand down and palmed his erection through his jeans. He hummed satisfactorily while Trent shivered.

“St- ohh…” Trent stiffened, raised his hands to push him away but froze, eyelids lazily fluttering shut when Brian slid that hand down his pants, rubbing him through his underwear. “F-fuck…”

Brian hummed again. “You like that?”

Trent could only nod, lips parted. “Uh-huh…” A look of bliss crossed his face, something Brian found he secretly adored, but then again he was not there to make him feel good. Yet. He wanted to see the fear first, flickering behind those forest green irises, and the pure submission he knew without a doubt that Trent was capable of. He’d seen it before in every cry for help to lose control on stage on his knees before God and the pit of hungry fans. Everyone wanted a piece of him, and Brian realized he was actually going to get it.

Grabbing him by the chin and jaw in a grip of steel, Brian pulled him in close to his chest roughly and growled, “Of course you do, you fucking shit.” At the sound of his voice, the voice of Manson, Trent’s eyes flashed open, and the former finally saw the fear in them he so relished. His eyes were wide, so large and pretty, incentive for Brian to keep going and keep teasingly stroking his cock. Trent was fully hard now, desperate and shaking in his arms, not those of a comforter. “You would do anything to feel this, wouldn’t you? My hand pleasing you, pampering you? Funny how you think I’m going to do what you want.”

Trent instantly pouted at this, ushering another sneer out of Brian.

“What? You think it’s all about you, don’t you, Mr. Bigshot? Fucking makes me sick, your ego. You fucking make me sick. Because you’re _such_ a _goddamn_ attention _whore_. Go on. Fucking say it, bitch. Tell me exactly what you are.”

“No-”

The grip on Trent’s jaw tightened just as the word left his mouth, and for a oment, Brian saw just a hint of playfulness hidden within that defiance staring back at him. Play along.

“No?” Brian inquired dangerously through grit teeth. “You think you can deny this? God, you’re unbelievable.”

Trent found himself pinned against the wall by the mirror, all the wind knocked out of him and Brian’s body weight holding him there. He cursed through his teeth and glowered at the man towering over him. “Come on, Brian, I’m done,” he complained, attempting a struggle. “Leave me alone.”

“Is that really how you feel?”

At this point, Trent felt the strong grip on him loosen, as though Brian was giving him a choice, but the fingers at his jaw soon made their way into his mouth. They stroked across his upper and lower lip ever so softly, index and middle finger sliding in, stroking his tongue. Trent surrendered to the touch and let Brian explore before he slowly shook his head, the one half of him practically begging for more.

Smirking triumphantly, Brian removed his fingers and smacked him across the face, leaving red, wet streaks at his cheek. “Fucking right,” he leered, grabbing him by the neck and further pressing him back against the wall. He didn’t squeeze, didn’t restrict air, but simply left it there, wrapped around his throat in asserted dominance. “You don’t get to decide, you fucking whore. Here I am, calling you a slut for attention, and you _like_ it. You fucking _like_ it! You are so _goddamn disgusting_.”

Trent shivered and felt himself get harder by the second. Brian’s words stung , and in the back of his mind, he knew that he had been waiting for a while to say a version of this to him. What he never thought was how arousing he found it made him. And Brian knew it and took advantage of it the first chance he got.

“Shit!” Trent hissed, the side of his face pressed against the glass of the mirror. Brian pressed his weight against him and held him there, hand buried in his hair, the other keeping his hands pinned behind his back. “Brian…”

“Don’t fucking address me,” Brian snapped, pulling his head back and slamming it forward. Trent whimpered once and then fell silent. Despite his growing frustration, Brian quite enjoyed his wriggling. “Stay still,” he ordered menacingly, and Trent felt him remove his hand from his head. The clinking noise sounded all too familiar, and then he felt the leather of Brian’s belt wrap around his wrists and tighten. Automatically, he balled up his hands into fists and waited. Brian yanked on the tail of the belt to tighten it further and chuckled darkly at the gasp he received in turn.

“Still think you’re such a pretty, perfect boy, don’t you?” he murmured huskily, nipping at his ear and working his hands around Trent’s waist down at his fly. “Go on and fucking say it then. Look yourself right in the eye and say it.”

Trent’s lower lip quivered. “I’m such a pretty boy…”

“Louder.” Carelessly, Brian yanked down his pants, taking the underwear with them and they pooled at his feet.

“I’m such a pretty boy!” he cried. Trent certainly did look like a whore just then, hair disheveled, eyes lidded and lustful, cock out and fully erect. Brian seemed to think so too as that devious smile returned. One hand in his hair shoved him forward, forehead pressed against the glass, hot breath fogging it over. Trent heard his voice again and whimpered.

“If you love yourself so much, why don’t you give yourself a kiss?”

Pursing his lips together in a thin, grim line, Trent wondered how much more humiliating this could get, and Brian remained unrelenting, his wild eyes piercing at him from the other side of the mirror. They burned hot coals into his back and those hands in his hair and at his hands stayed firm. Trent had to give in if he wished to be given some relief and softly pressed his lips against the mirror, against his reflection. He heard the pleased sigh behind him and got more into it, smashing his mouth sloppily against his reflection, closing his eyes, moaning whorishly, putting on a show.

“That’s it,” Brian marveled at the scene and, when he was thoroughly, satisfied, pulled him back against him, one arm across his throat and the other wrapped around the front of his waist. “Who’s a pretty boy then?”

“I am,” Trent breathed as though he were in a trance. He seemed to melt in Brian’s arms desperate for any touch, any caress he had to give. And while Brian had no intention of giving him exactly what he wanted, he stopped to admire the goods.

With a dark smirk, he thought aloud, “I suppose I can see why you seem to be so in love with yourself.” Trent instantly started to wilt again until he felt those hands on his body, roaming over his flesh. “You are beautiful.” Brian’s hands explored nearly every inch of him, smoothing up his torso towards his chest under his shirt. Trent let out a soft, husky “aah!” as he played with his nipples, brushing his thumbs over them, and groaned much too loudly when those hands trailed and teased down his tummy, inching closer and closer towards his cock.

Instead they moved down his inner thighs and back up towards his hips. Out of frustration, Trent let out a sob-like moan, rutting once into the air.

“And fucking needy.” Brian clicked his tongue and held Trent in place. “Shut _up_.” Fingers dug into Trent’s waist, leaving marks like crescent moons into his skin. “God, you act like you haven’t been _fucked_ in years. Perhaps you need a good fucking.”

Something warm and heavy rubbed between his cheeks slowly. Trent instinctively clenched and whined when he felt how wet it was too. Wet and hot and dripping down the small of his back. “Please, Brian,” he begged, growing frantic, “please. I’m… I’m not ready for that yet. Please.”

Just a twinge of sympathy made Brian stop grinding on Trent’s ass for a moment, and he grinned, amused. “Yeah,” he wondered aloud thoughtfully. “I’d fucking rip you apart, couldn’t I?” Trent swallowed hard. “Relax. I’m not that mean.”

Somehow Trent was not convinced until Brian leaned forward and sweetly placed his lips against the side of his head. The slow grinding between his cheeks continued and nothing more, and it was really starting to feel good. With every feverish breath, Trent felt himself get harder, painfully so, achingly so that he had to look down as Brian’s hand finally wrapped around his pulsing length. The other hand caught him by the chin with another click of his tongue.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Brian murmured in a sing-song way. “Keep looking forward, you little cumslut. I want you to fucking watch yourself as I make you come. Just like the vain bitch I know you to be.”

Trent almost sniffed and searched for the right words. “I’m not vain,” he settled with in a softer than normal voice. He could not help it; Trent felt like he was on sensory overload with Brian’s hands on him and his words so sharp they could sting.

Then that hand on his cock was gone and Brian sounded like a parent reprimanding him as he said, “You wanted me to stop?”

“No!” Trent almost cried. “Please, Brian…”

“Then say it. Say you’re a vain cumslut and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

Trent’s lower lip trembled, but no matter how stubborn he tried to be, he was not winning in the slightest. Brian’s hands stayed off of him, but his own thick, heavy cock remained nestled between his cheeks, gently rutting, grinding against him. It should have felt good, but it was not enough. Trent balled up his hands into fists behind his back, fucking into the air as if that would relieve him.

“I’m a vain cumslut!” he finally cried. “I love the attention. I just love knowing I can tell you what to do and that you would follow my every instruction… blindly!” The last word ended in a squeak as Brian finally indulged him, pumping his cock mercilessly, the friction making him wince.

Brian spat into his own hand and then continued as avidly as before, relishing Trent’s whines and moans and gasps with every stroke. As they increased in volume, Brian could tell he was close, so close, and for a brief second, he wanted to stop, torment him half to hell, but Brian had waited long enough. He wanted to see him come, all over that mirror, and how wonderfully humiliating that would be. The only problem was how loud Trent was being. As fun as it would seem for anyone to hear him, Brian suddenly felt territorial; he wanted him all to himself.

“Sh, sh, sh!” Brian kept a steady hand on his cock, slowly grinding against him, and pressed the other over his mouth. “What if the rest of the guys heard you? What if they _came in_ just now? Wouldn’t that be _embarrassing_?” He chuckled, and Trent shuddered, eyes closing. He bucked against his hand and moaned long and low, muffled, and Brian pressed his whole body against him, shoving him into the mirror. “You’re going to come,” he growled. “ _Now_.”

Letting out a sob-like moan against his hand, Trent fucked into Brian’s fist a few more times until he released with a ragged, low groan. Brian felt something hot spill out over his hand and gasped once, moaning with him. He was close himself, and Trent shaking and twitching uncontrollably against him only made matters more urgent. Brian milked him through it as if he was squeezing every last drop from him until he longed to get away.

“S-sensitive…”

“Shut up,” Brian said curtly, releasing him. “Knees.”

Trent felt the hand in his hair and dropped down docilely, blinking those ever-submissive, green eyes up at him over his shoulder. Brian looked disinterested at his expense but continued pumping and stroking at his own cock slowly, purposefully. With a click of his tongue as if disappointed in him, he sneered, “Clean up your mess.”

Reddening violently, Trent stared at the cum dribbling down the mirror and steeled himself for the bitter taste. It made him gag when he finally forced himself to obey. As his tongue slid over it, he choked, and the soft titter above him reminded him that his humiliation was for Brian’s enjoyment.

“You’re just going to have to get used to that, huh?” he teased, and Trent heard the soft, aroused sighs in between. He really got off on degrading him, and that only made Trent feel smaller. In seconds, he came all over him, aiming right for the small of his back just so he could watch it slide down his ass. It made him want to work himself up again just so he could blow his load on him a second time.

Maybe later.

“Well, that was fun,” Brian mused, tucking himself back into his pants and untying him. As Trent stared at him somewhat expectantly, he nodded, “Might as well take a shower.” He started to turn on his heel and leave, but Trent’s low voice, sounding much smaller than usual, broke through.

“If…”

Brian turned.

“If you’re not going to clean me up, can you… could you…” Trent looked rather annoyed with himself, pursed his lips, and looked away in embarrassment. Brian waited.

“Could you at least kiss me?”

Brian’s mouth turned up and spread into a wide grin. “Liked it that much?” Trent found something better to focus on, like rubbing at his wrists than staring into those dark eyes. Before he know it, Brian’s lips were on his, softer than anything else he had done to him and new butterflies fluttered in his stomach.

Just when he though he could close his eyes and really savor the kiss, Brian broke away and rose to his feet. “Satisfied?” The look in his eyes told him so clearly what he wanted to hear and Trent almost smiled. Instead he shook his head, and Brian almost beamed with pride.

“Good,” he said.


	3. Eat Me

Trent was still fast asleep that morning when Brian returned, carrying two mugs of coffee and a bottle of Advil. Last night was something out of an Andy Warhol painting- just add the drugs and fucking and it screamed Warhol. Brian didn’t remember much. There were girls. Lots of girls. He wasn’t sure if he imagined Lou Reed stopping by or if he really did come, but Trent seemed to hang off of his every word, imaginary or not.

Brian didn’t know what he took either; whatever it was he definitely blacked out. Last thing he remembered before he popped the pill, some girl took her top off and Trent’s arm was wrapped around his neck as his head drooped over his shoulder. Did he take Trent to the bedroom? When he woke up first with no clothes on and noticed him completely naked as well beside him, every possible thing of what they did last night flashed through his mind like snap shot photos.

One thing was for certain; Brian was hungover, but that didn’t stop him from getting out of bed to assess the situation. Would Trent remember when he woke up? If he will, how would he take it? Brian prayed to whatever was up above or down below that he wasn’t going to freak out.

It seemed like they both enjoyed themselves last night, clothes strewn about the room, a ripped condom wrapper- or a few lying on the in-table next to the bed, a bottle of lube half empty that looked like it had been thrown across the room. Brian surveyed the area for a long minute, eyes flitting over the wreckage, and the corners of his lips turned up into a slow smile. _His_ ass didn’t hurt like a bitch, so apparently he hadn’t bottomed last night. For some odd reason, Brian always thought Trent would be against the idea of being the bottom if it ever came down to it, but now he didn’t have to wonder anymore. And there he was on the bed, lying on his stomach, completely naked, fast asleep and utterly fuckable.

Brian honestly couldn’t remove his eyes from the display. Trent’s arms were folded underneath his head, and his face was turned to the side, eyes shut peacefully, mouth slightly open. Brian watched his back rise and fall evenly as he breathed and longed to just reach out and touch him. Like he did last night. Right between his shoulder blades, traveling those fingers along his spine, down in between his cheeks. Maybe that would wake him up. Brian almost snorted at the thought until he had an idea, and his grin widened. He looked so beautiful and so exposed with the sheets rumpled and laying in disarray against the soft curve of his bare ass; Brian had to try something. Maybe if it was just to get him to wake up.

He chuckled softly and approached the bed, lifting the sheets at the edge and then climbing in to crawl underneath. It was warm and smelled like sweat and sex, but Brian didn’t care. Trent’s toes curled in a cute way while he slept, and Brian almost had the urge to bend down further and lick them, tickling them a little, but that was not his destination. As he went closer, he nudged Trent’s thigh’s apart to slide in between them. He felt Trent stir for a bit but that didn’t stop him from resting his hand on his ass, caressing it and causing him to grunt a little at the soft touch.

“Mmm…”

Brian stopped immediately and then bent down to press a sloppy kiss against the small of his back, moving down from there to teasingly graze his teeth against his right ass cheek. He relished when Trent moaned aloud now, waking up and then sitting up on his elbows with a jolt at the feeling of Brian’s teeth and fingers on his butt.

Trent blinked rapidly, trying to get the sleep out of his eyes, and wiped his mouth before turning around a little to stare at the mound beneath the sheets. “Brian? What are you- ah!” He gasped. Brian decided to knead his ass and then spread his cheeks suddenly, which Trent thought was slightly intrusive yet also sent shivers down his spine- the good kind. It was when his tongue lightly flicked at his hole that Trent instantly reddened and began to sputter.

“B-Brian! Th-that… mmh…” Trent stopped short and stiffened since the feeling was so alien to him. The man between his legs, face buried in his ass, noticed this and immediately pulled his head out of the covers to stare at him.

“Don’t tell me after everything we did last night, you have never had your ass licked?” Brian asked in disbelief. Trent’s blush deepened to a darker shade of crimson, and he shook his head. Brian snorted smugly. “First time’s the charm.”

“That’s not…” The squeal that erupted from Trent’s throat stopped him from contradicting him. He shivered at the unusual feeling that was slowly starting to feel _fucking amazing._

Brian grinned against his ass and shoved his face even deeper between his cheeks, laving his tongue along the small opening of his entrance and then flicking it some more just to tease him and hear that squeal again. When he sucked on it, Trent started to lose it, heaving in a breath and whimpering like some tortured puppy. Brian was relentless, the wet sounds that mixed the laving of his tongue slick against his hole, sucking and licking incessantly, forcing Trent into a trembling heap. It was when he dipped that muscle into his entrance that Trent threw back his head with a cry, fisting the sheets and thrusting his ass back in Brian’s face.

Brian hummed in approval at his reaction and pulled away just to throw back the sheet and get up on his knees, hoisting his ass up with him and keeping the upper half of his body limp against the bed and pillows. Trent mewled, obviously giving in to the unexpected situation and lay his head down on the side so he could breathe and so Brian could hear more of his noises.

And Brian went down on him as avidly as before, burying his tongue in his ass almost as if he wanted to eat Trent until he was screaming. Trent did scream and then shoved his fist in his mouth in attempts to smother his noise. Didn’t help much.

Brian on the other hand grew incredibly aroused at the sight of Trent rocking his ass up in his face, fist stuffed in his mouth, eyes squeezed shut. To humor him, Brian’s hands gave both cheeks a sharp smack and then his tongue went back to work. Trent’s unoccupied hand decided to sneak up to his erect dick and began stroking slowly, gradually gaining speed when Brian’s tongue refused to stop.

“Mmph! Brian…” Trent moaned against his hand, and his other hand moved faster and faster, especially when Brian decided to spit on his ass. Trent’s eyes rolled into the back of his head in his ecstasy and he shook uncontrollably, feeling his orgasm approach. “’M gonna…”

Moaning nonchalantly, Brian kept sucking and licking, kneading his fingers in Trent’s flesh until he felt him quiver and twitch, coming in his hand and against the sheets, moaning aloud and obscenely.

Once he had finished, Trent collapsed on his side and rolled over onto his back. His eyelids fluttered, and he stretched out his limbs, groaning softly and then falling limp. Brian thought he looked like a cat just like that. To think he had just made him purr a few minutes ago. To think he had made him purr just last night. Brian fell back beside him and kicked the soiled sheets aside. With a grunt of satisfaction, he turned to stare at him, and Trent did the same.

“Well, that escalated quickly,” Trent muttered, turning back to stare at the ceiling.

Brian smirked. “Good morning to you too.”

“So I’m guessing before all… this…” Trent indicated what just happened and continued hesitantly, “we…”

Brian nodded and looked thoughtful for a moment. Trent only saw him like this in the studio, focusing on his art, the next album after Smells Like Children. Then he spoke and his voice was soft.

“If you didn’t like it, we-“

“No I liked it!” Trent cut in and then blushed. “At least, I think I did. I mean, I didn’t run away like Richard.”

Brian snorted at that remark, and Trent grinned, looking smug.

“I wouldn’t mind doing it again.”

Glancing his way, Brian watched Trent’s features. He looked nervous, nervous about letting anyone in, nervous about trusting anyone, but he also looked willing.

“Neither would I,” Brian replied. Growing bored of the silence, he suddenly asked with a hint of a laugh in his voice, “So was Lou Reed really here last night?”

Trent rolled his eyes.


	4. We're the Bright Young Things

Trent Reznor was his hero. Trent Reznor was one of his many inspirations. Trent Reznor was his… secret, embarrassing celebrity crush. And twenty-one-year-old Brian Hugh Warner knew he was in way over his head when he walked in with a pad of paper and a pen, ready to conduct the interview (although he was pretty sure Trent would do the conducting). His hands were sweaty then, and his ears grew hot as the blood rushed to his head in his anxiety. Trent Reznor had no time conversing with amateur writers from rinky-dink magazines. Trent Reznor would think this tall, big-eared, blonde-haired geek was a total weirdo and walk out before the interview was over.

Brian did not expect the day to end up like _this_.

In Trent Reznor’s apartment.

In his bedroom. With Trent.

Of course, it was Trent’s and Chris’s apartment but the guy wasn’t home, so it was just him. And Trent. Brian kept going back to it every time in his mind and swallowed hard once Trent emerged from the bathroom, dressed in one of those over-sized tanks and those wild dreads of his nearly covering his face. Brian loved those dreads; they were incredibly sexy, and no, he did not dare say that to Trent, not now that he was in his home, sitting on his bed…

Brian remained busy fiddling with the seam of the sheets when Trent spoke up.

“Make yourself at home. I just finished freshening up. You want a coffee or something?”

Brian shook his head, suddenly feeling like his usual shy self again and muttered a “no thanks”. Then he said a little louder when Trent ventured into the kitchen, “What exactly am I doing here again? If you don’t mind me asking…”

He thought he heard light laughter from the other room. Trent came back with a beer and cast him an easy smile. “I just assumed since our little interview was going so well that you would want to come back here so we could finish it up.”

Brian’s heart thumped, and he almost gave his shock away by the expression on his face. “Finish…?” he began tentatively.

That fucking smirk. “You’re so cute, I thought it was pretty obvious,” Trent replied. “I like you, Brian.”

He couldn’t believe his fucking ears. “M-me?” Brian stammered out, trying in vain to remember the English language.

Trent’s beautiful green eyes narrowed over the rim of the beer can as he brought it to his lips, almost as if he was trying to figure him out right there. Seemed like he was pretty close to succeeding and his triumphant little smile remained evident on his face. Then Trent set his drink down and approached him with a casual swagger. “Yes you,” he replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Concern flew through his eyes so fast and he asked, “Is that ok?”

Brian nodded wordlessly as he drew closer and attempted to speak again, failing miserably once more. “I… I just… I-I-“

Trent grew smug again and chuckled, sitting smartly on his lap and straddling his long legs. “You-you-you what?” he teased. “I can tell you like me too. And not just the admiration for my music. This is some serious little crush you have going on, isn’t it?”

Damn, he had him under his thumb tonight. Brian surrendered instantly, not just because Trent sitting on his lap like this was extremely distracting and alluring, but also because there seemed to be some understanding in those green eyes that gazed insistently back into his.

“How long have you felt this way about me?” Trent searched further, his voice softer and less demanding.

“I heard the ‘Sin’ track, and…” Brian blushed when he realized he was spilling his secrets to the man he wanted all this time. And there were so many other things that he wanted. “I don’t know. I suppose it was your voice that drew me to you. Once I got one taste I couldn’t get enough. You have a lot of…” Sucking in a breath and wondering how he would word this without internally dying, Brian continued, “…sexual undertones in your music that just makes me… _want_ you, Trent.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. You probably get this everyday from raging fangirls.”

Trent instantly put a finger to his lips to silence him and smiled. There was something cunning about it, but Brian stopped talking and waited with large eyes. “How cute,” Trent murmured, his smile widening. “Glad to know someone understands the meaning of my sexual frustration. Bet you’ve fantasized about it too.”

Brian stopped breathing. Of course, he’d fantasized about fucking Trent. Who wouldn’t honestly? Maybe it was listening to Trent sing about the “devil fucking him in the back of his car”, and he decided to put himself in that position, pounding into his little ass and hearing him scream for more with each thrust. That helped him get off in less than no time, that’s for certain, and now, here he was, gently rubbing his ass on his lap and staring at him with such heat.

“You’re not saying anything,” Trent said in somewhat of a sing-song voice, “which means it’s true. You’ve fantasized about pegging me with your ‘ring finger’, haven’t you?” Taking his trembling hand in his, Trent enveloped his actual ring finger with his mouth and hummed contentedly while he sucked softly. Brian could only stare and felt a warmth build up in his slowly tightening pants. After a long blissful moment, Trent released his finger with a wet pop, licked his lips, and asked, “With this one?” He flicked his tongue out at it with a smirk, and Brian groaned inwardly.

“Yes,” he almost moaned breathlessly. “I’ve thought about fucking you so hard, about filling you with my cock –shit!- and you liking every second of it. There’s so many…” He groaned. Trent successfully distracted him by rocking his ass and hips slowly, achingly slow against his crotch. “…so many things I have wanted to do to you, Trent.”

“Mmm…” Trent mused. “I bet there are.” He grinned wickedly, and his eyes glittered in that smug lust as he suddenly glanced down in between them. “You’re hard.”

Brian reddened instantly. “Sorry…” he mumbled.

“Anything you want me to do?”

How was this happening? Before he could stop himself, Brian whimpered and bucked his hips a little against Trent on top of him.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Trent whispered soothingly and gently pushed him back against the bed with a soft thump.

Brian let him do everything. Part of it was because his limbs and muscles had decided to stop working as soon as Trent laid his hands on him. The other half screamed for Trent to touch him and kiss him and maybe even suck him off. Everything about this seemed so wrong, that maybe Brian shouldn’t have said a word, that maybe he shouldn’t have gone back to Trent’s apartment in the first place, but then again, he never wanted to be right to begin with.

Trent got down from the bed and knelt at the edge, nudging Brian’s thighs apart, and Brian had to blink once and glance up to remind himself that this was actually going to happen. His fly was down, his pants unbuttoned and all of a sudden they were dragged down to his ankles, leaving him feeling very exposed right in front of the man he had wanted since he first laid eyes on him. Then the underwear went with them, and Brian gave a little gasp as soon as the cold air hit his erect cock.

Trent stared for a long while, and Brian swore if he saw him bite his lower lip like that ever again he’d nail him right there in a heartbeat. “You’re huge,” he murmured in marvel, lust edging his voice.

“Thanks,” Brian practically squeaked.

Humming in delight, Trent leaned in close now and laved his tongue up the underside of his shaft, from base to tip, testing him out. Brian immediately responded with a groan and arched his back into the glorious feeling to which Trent promptly chuckled at how much he melted against his touch.

“So eager,” Trent said shifting up a little, his warm mouth hovering over the head. “That’s cute.” Then he sucked on the tip without warning, and Brian hitched in a breath, quickly covering his mouth to smother his noises. Trent smacked his hands away and released him. “Let me hear you. I want to know how much you want to fuck me.”

Brian let everything go then and moaned loudly once Trent repeated his lewd gesture, dipping his tongue into the slit and eliciting rude smacking and sucking noises. This went on for what felt like an hour of complete pleasure until Trent decided to slide his mouth down over his shaft slowly, gradually, making Brian suffer for it, feeling as though he would shoot his load down Trent’s throat any second now. Trent was merciless, moving all the way down and adding his tongue to the base of his throbbing cock as soon as his nose hit his pubes.

He fought his gag reflex and relaxed his throat as best he could while he breathed through his nose. Brian was huge, and Trent felt his own cock twitch at what it would feel like to have him inside of him. Fucking amazing. He’d be screaming, begging for it like a shameless slut. As these thoughts ran through his brain, he groaned, and the noise sent vibrations to Brian’s leaking member, forcing a cry out of him. God, he was so fucking adorable; the way he practically melted in Trent’s presence. The tables would definitely turn as soon as he could have his way with him.

Trent began bobbing his head up and down when he grew adjusted to his size, making himself choke on his dick. His hands gripped Brian’s thighs, who mewled and moaned at his touch, undulating his hips wildly into his face. Suddenly Trent pulled away with a pop, breathless, face red, chest heaving, dreads flying everywhere, and he smiled in his exertion at Brian’s desperate sound of protest. He went back down as avidly as ever, wildly bobbing his head and applying his tongue while he snuck his hand in to grope and fondle his balls. Brian keened at this and writhed at how fucking good at giving head Trent was; fuck, the man was a fucking master, and Brian just wanted _more_.

Any minute now he was going to come right down Trent’s throat. His cock ached so much it almost hurt, and he whimpered and begged for Trent to keep going, send him right over the edge. Grabbing his dark dreads in large fistfuls, Brian arched his back, leaned his head into the pillows, and gave a long, guttural groan before crying out, “Fuck, I’m gonna come!”

Trent didn’t remove his mouth though and smirked wickedly against his dick, eyeing Brian lustfully through thick lashes. He tightened his throat around him, and that’s when Brian let go, screaming his name and coming in his mouth. Trent sputtered a little and gagged, but he swallowed it down even though some dribbled down the corners of his mouth. Brian sat up on his elbows, shuddering and twitching through his high while he watched Trent take in every last drop and then release him with a satisfied and obscene wet pop.

Studying how wrecked Brian was in the aftermath and smirking just a little, Trent bent down to kiss the head and then moved up to tackle Brian back on the bed, kissing him deeply and making him taste himself in his mouth.

“You taste good,” he whispered and licked playfully at his lower lip. Brian blinked and smiled a small smile at the man who rested his whole body on top of him. This was certainly half of a dream come true, and Brian reddened, wondering where Trent wanted to take this. His hero, his long time crush had just gone down on him.

Sensing his uncertainty, Trent smiled somewhat reassuringly and kissed his nose sweetly before smashing his mouth against his for a second time. “Tomorrow? Your place?”


	5. Trail of Honey

Nothing compared to this, Brian thought while his hands clung to Trent’s hips, looking up at the man who straddled him. Nothing could be better than having a beautiful man or woman sitting on top of you, making you twitch in your pants. Nothing. Brian chuckled and rubbed his thumbs in slow circles along his soft skin. He admired the familiar feel of it and watched Trent’s face shift from contentment to pleasure in a matter of seconds.

Trent instantly snapped out of it to glance down, smile softly, and murmur, “Tired yet?”

Brian should be. After a wild show like that, he should be fucking exhausted, but Trent invited him over afterwards to stay the night, and oddly, he found Le Pig comforting, especially if he was lying beneath the man he was head over heels in love with. Trent knew of his feelings and reciprocated them back just as much, maybe even a little more. One thing was for certain; he definitely enjoyed sharing moments like these with Brian, alone, no one else around, no one with a bag of coke and couple of groupies to make the night seem like an almost upsetting blur. Trent wanted to be in the moment with Brian, in a moment of clarity so he could feel everything and say everything without not knowing what exactly he was saying.

Brian shook his head at Trent’s question and smirked. “Not… at the moment, no.”

“I bet you aren’t,” Trent chuckled, smoothing his pretty piano fingers up Brian’s expansive chest, careful not to ignore the scars. Only he could touch them, and Brian felt incredibly safe when he would caress them or kiss them lovingly. For some reason, Brian grew drawn to Trent touching him especially along his chest area. Trent found that he could be extremely sensitive there –in the best type of way- but he never went further enough to figure out just how sensitive he was. “Someone’s getting kind of excited.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Brian snorted and closed his eyes for a bit when Trent shifted his weight on his crotch. Then he leaned forward to lay on top of him, hands on his shoulders and head now on his chest, sighing contentedly. This was a side of Trent only Brian witnessed when they were completely alone, unreserved, relaxed, maybe a little happy, maybe a little horny, and shit, he felt like the luckiest guy alive to be able to see him like this.

Trent breathed in deeply and listened to Brian’s faint heartbeat for a bit before muttering, “You smell good.” A fresh, after-shower scent, a whiff of soap and sweat, and Trent found himself wanting to bury his face in his chest. He did so, and Brian giggled at his random gesture.

“I’m glad,” he replied. “Smelled like a fucking pig earlier.”

“Dirty fucking pig,” Trent mumbled against him, sounding amused.

“Hey now. You keep shaming me like this and I’ll jizz my jeans.”

Trent hummed at that picture in his mind that he gave him and immediately rutted against his slightly growing bulge before huffing out a laugh and lifting his head, sitting back up on top of him.

“Mm, an idea,” he mused, eyes glittering slyly while his hands continued to roam his chest, lightly pinching his right nipple before moving on to the other.

“An idea indeed- ow! Fucker…” Brian grinned while Trent giggled and arched his back a little as he raised his arms and folded them behind his head. “Wait a second… Keep doing that…”

Trent had proceeded to rub his nipples a little with his thumbs, stimulating them so skillfully, and _fuck_ , Brian was fucking enjoying it. He stopped only to grin wickedly and asked, “Do what?” He flicked at one and then the other, loving the way Brian practically squirmed against the touch. “This?” He did it again, and Brian reacted just the way he wanted.

“No, you slut!” he laughed with a little bit of frustration and then suddenly moaned when Trent returned to sliding his pretty hands up and down his chest. “Fuck… Can you… can you touch me there a little longer?”

“I don’t know, can I?” Trent grinned at Brian’s bewildered look but decided to humor him anyway just because he wanted to play a little while longer. In gentle circles, his piano fingers rubbed at Brian’s hard nipples, and Brian in turn let out a heavy sigh as he leaned his head back into the pillow, closing his eyes in bliss. Just to have Trent touching him like this and not with anyone else. Anyone would be jealous if they knew. Trent was skillful in every sexual way possible, no doubt about it.

Something wet and slick suddenly met his right nipple, and Brian involuntarily sucked in a breath at the unusual yet wonderfully arousing contact on his skin. Trent was _licking_ it, swirling his tongue in slow, achingly slow circles before enveloping the raw flesh completely with his mouth and sucking lightly. He moved to the left and did the same with the other one.

“Fuck, Trent…” Brian murmured breathlessly, arching his back a little more into Trent’s mouth and groaning softly. “Harder.”

Trent grinned against his skin, stealing a glance up at him and then returning his focus back to his chest. He sucked harder as requested, and then Brian suddenly gave a loud, fully aroused cry when he bit into his flesh, lightly tugging at his nipple between his teeth and moving to the other, giving it equal pleasure. While he performed this lewd act, Trent began to softly grind against Brian’s bulge through his pants, offering a bit of friction with the tingling feeling of his mouth on his flesh.

Brian writhed beneath him and bucked up his hips, making Trent hum in approval while he ground down against him harder. “Fuck- shit! Trent…” Brian whined when he sat up, continuing to undulate his hips on top of him. “More. Please.”

Smirking triumphantly, Trent brought two fingers to his mouth and sucked on them, watching him all the while and then did the same to two fingers on his other hand. He brought them down on his nipples, rubbing them and making Brian moan with need, such a fucking need. The flesh was red, raw from Trent’s treatment, and his gaze traveled from his chest to Brian’s face, scrunched up in pleasure. Sneaking a hand down in between them both, Trent tightened his fist around Brian’s shaft and balls through his pants, forcing a gasp out of him.

“Fucking please…” was all Brian could whimper.

Trent smiled at him and then bent down to wrap his lips around his left nipple, sucking and biting some more with a content moan.

It was all too much, and Brian knew he would come soon if Trent kept his hands on him. One remained on his chest, rubbing and pinching while the other palmed his bulge vigorously, his mouth still sucking at his skin like he would eat him. And he refused to stop until Brian finally released his load from his throbbing dick in his pants, sending him thrashing against the bed and beneath Trent’s warm body as he moaned his name and a couple of four letter words too.

Trent milked him through his orgasm until he was a shuddering, breathless mess against the mattress, staring up at him through half-lidded eyes, glazed over in lust from his high. “Hmm… Didn’t know you were really that sensitive there,” Trent mused, resuming a constant, gentle gliding of his hands around his chest.

Brian grunted at the feeling and folded his arms back behind his head again. “You could stand to do it more often, kitten.”

Smiling at the nickname, Trent fell on the bed next to him, wrapping his arms around his neck and his leg hooked at his hip. “You gotta find my sweet spot then and no, my ass does not count.”


	6. Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody loves a riot grrrl.

“Spit on me again, and I’m gonna rip your fucking cunt off.”

Brian did a double take while watching Trent thrash around on the stage. She was a tidal wave tonight with maybe a little too much to drink in her system, and as soon as one so-called “fan” had the nerve to cross her, Brian prepared himself to jump to her rescue and knock the fucker out, but this was Trent, and she didn’t fucking need saving apparently. He watched wide eyed as she practically leapt into the crowd to go after him, large green eyes blazing, dark hair wild and sweat-soaked.

After an uproar from the pit that lasted about two minutes but felt like two agonizing hours to Brian, security brought Trent back onstage, jumpy, disheveled, and maybe with a little bit of a bloody nose (he couldn’t tell if it was because someone got a hit in or if it was the coke from earlier). Brian let out the breath he had been holding and breathed a sigh of relief. He almost chuckled a bit at her words prior to the chaos.

Maybe she had a cunt, but Trent had bigger balls than any “man” in that crowd.

Brian smiled and watched her flip her hair out of her face as the song continued. Lights flashed, and Trent approached Robin as she sang, wrapping her free arm around his neck in an attempted choke hold. Robin looked like he was trying to resist, but he decided to give up. With her, it was useless to fight back. He barely flinched when her pink tongue flicked out to lave up the side of his face. Robin almost grinned and swung his leg out, connecting playfully with her ass as she walked away.

Brian could’ve been a little jealous at the contact between the two of them, but he brushed it off as always. Robin was harmless, and so was Trent. She merely held a wild streak inside of her that couldn’t remain contained once she hit the stage.

Eyeliner smudged and running down her face and dark lipstick smeared across her mouth, Trent made her way into the light to speak to the crowd once again.

“Look at these motherfucking pigs!” she screamed, her voice rasping heavy into the microphone. “Thank you for coming out tonight. We love being here in this great dump of… Where the fuck are we again?”

Someone yelled an answer, and Trent nodded to it, obviously inebriated and more, swaying against the mic stand. She made a face of discomfort as she reached inside of her shirt and complained, “My goddamn bra…” Some erupted in laughter. “Honestly, I don’t know how we girls can fucking live like this. Thick padding against our tits, and fuck everything if it doesn’t fit us right.” Her voice faded out into a mumble, and Trent lowered her head, promptly removing her bra from underneath her oversized tank. The crowd immediately roared in whoops and hollers, and Brian smiled when he heard her chuckle into the mic.

“Which one of you cumshots wants this?” Trent screamed, waving the bra high in the air before flinging it out into the mass of writhing, sweaty bodies pounding against one another. Brian whooped with the mob, and then his eyes widened at the next display.

Trent grabbed the hem of her shirt and lifted it, giving the crowd a good show as she rocked her hips and shook her tits at them for another cheer. “Unh, unh, yeah, you like that, pigs?” Trent continued to gyrate at them until she decided they had seen enough and lowered her shirt. Brian could only gape while a voice inside his head yelled _She showed her tits!_ Perhaps she needed a good fuck when this was all over.

A good fuck was exactly what she needed tonight.

It didn’t help matters for Brian with her walking around their bedroom completely naked and still sweat-soaked and smeared from the gig. Dirty girl. Dirty little whore. Brian kept playing it off in his head as he lay limp against the bed, shirt off and hands behind his head in what he wished was total relaxation. Trent gave him the opposite of that, and he sighed aloud.

“You okay?” Trent called before Brian heard the shower turn on.

“Think you can take a quick one?” he asked, ignoring her question and then he heard her chuckle.

“I stink, Brian. Let me at least wash myself.”

Brian smirked. “I’d like to see that.” He heard Trent snort rudely.

“I’m sure.”

“ _Trent_ …”

“Shut the fuck up! I wanna get clean, you needy bitch!”

Brian pouted and slumped further into his spot on the bed, feeling himself grow more and more restless by the passing minute. Eventually he heard the water shut off abruptly and listened for Trent to step out of the stall. Before she could even think to reach for a towel, Brian called out, “Nope! No drying off. Come here.”

Trent emerged from the bathroom with a quizzical look on her face, and Brian instinctively sucked in a breath at the sight of her naked form. Her white skin almost glowed from the light of the bathroom and the dim light within their bedroom, the water making it glisten. Her hair was wet and tangled and stuck to her face in different ways, and damn, Brian thought she looked absolutely fuckable. He sat up instantly and gestured for her to come closer. Trent noticed that hungry look in his eyes and smirked knowingly, running her slim fingers through her hair as she approached him at the foot of the bed.

“Yes?” And she sounded so innocent, too.

Brian pushed aside the sheets that had been covering his growing shaft and growled one order while he wrapped his hand around himself. “Mount me.”

“But I’m so wet,” Trent whined, flashing that wicked grin in his direction.

Brian simply grunted at the remark and crooked a finger at her, watching eagerly as she crawled towards him. Trent stopped to hover over his waist, just barely straddling him, offering Brian the perfect position. He took the wordless plea and raised his hand to brush two fingers against her clit. Letting out a short groan, Trent rocked her hips once and then remained still, staring down at Brian, urging him to continue for the love of God.

He did, and the two fingers shoved deep inside of her made Trent scream. “Yeah,” Brian commented while he stroked and curled against her insides. “You are. So wet. Gonna leak and squirt all over my cock.”

Trent nodded her head up and down wordlessly and pressed her lips together before squeaking out, “Want your cock…”

“And where do you want it, sweetheart?”

Moaning and tilting her head to the side, Trent murmured, “Inside me.”

“You want what inside you?”

Trent keened and scoffed down at his teasing. “ _Your. Cock._ ” Rocking herself against his fingers, Trent groaned, “Just fuck me, Brian.”

“On your back, slut,” Brian responded darkly, pulling his fingers out of her and pushing her back.

Trent obediently positioned herself on the bed like how he wanted her and spread her legs, laid out and ready for the taking. Every inch of her body quivered in her need for him, like she would convulse and go crazy if he didn’t touch her just as he had prior. Those large eyes spoke volumes of lust up at him, and Brian quickly got to his knees in between Trent’s spread thighs, marveling at how her cunt already dripped for his length, wet and throbbing.

Brian grasped the backs of her thighs, raising her body gently and entering her slowly, inch by inch, stretching her to perfection. Trent whined and gripped Brian’s forearms, bringing his hands to her tits shamelessly. He kneaded them with his fingers and rubbed her nipples until they were hard. With each touch he gave her, Trent moaned and muttered little encouragements for Brian to keep going, fuck, keep going. Grinning at how well he could play her, Brian suddenly leaned down and took one of her nipples into his mouth.

Trent keened and arched her back, giving him better access. A satisfied grunt escaped her lips when she felt the first thrust inside of her, and she bucked her hips up in response, urging Brian to grip her thighs harder.

“Don’t hold back,” she muttered desperately and within seconds, Brian was pounding into her, sending more power into each thrust than he thought possible. Her screams were his fuel, rhythmic to each thrust, brazen obscenities pouring from her lips. Within minutes, she was ready to come already.

“Then come,” Brian offered, “but I’m not going to yet. I want to wait until you are really open for me, raw and stretched and wet from your cum dripping out of your pussy. And when I decide when enough is enough, do you know what I’m going to do then?”

Trent could only mewl in response, tossing her hair, hands fisting into the sheets mercilessly.

“I’m going to spill my fucking load deep inside of your fat cunt,” Brian hissed, “and I won’t allow a single drop to go to waste.”

“Oh fuck, I’m coming!” Trent burst out, letting go all over Brian’s cock, and he felt her, felt her tighten around him and then lie still, but he kept going. As he said, he wasn’t finished yet.

“Oh yes, I’m not done with you, doll,” he lilted while he continued to pound into her, the obscene sound of skin slapping skin resonating between them both. “I’m so full for you, so full of thick, hot cum to enter your womb.”

“Sounds like y-you want to get me pregnant or something,” Trent stammered about as coherently as she could while twitching on the bed in the overstimulation he gave her.

Brian looked smug as he confirmed, “Maybe I do. Maybe I want to fuck you and fuck you some more until there’s nothing left inside of me; all of my seed entering you, filling you up.” Trent keened, and Brian kept going, increasing the power of his thrusts. “You want to have my fucking kid, kitten? If I could fuck you even harder, I’d fuck a baby in you.”

“G-gonna come again!” Trent practically squealed, wrapping her legs around Brian’s hips and raising her arms above her head to grip the edge of the bed.

Brian felt himself getting closer as well and began thrusting harder and deeper than he ever had before. It seemed like he definitely was trying to get Trent pregnant, and she swore he could reach her womb at the wild pace he was going.

They both came together, pressing against one another frantically, flesh roaming flesh, leaving no air in between. Trent orgasmed and screamed Brian’s name, grabbing at his face, his shoulders, scratching her nails down his back as he released his load deep inside of her just as he said he would. She could fucking feel it, and when Brian pulled away, there was so much. She felt some leak out and whimpered at the raw sensation from his cock. Brian noticed the cum seep out of her and smirked as he attempted to push it back in with his fingers.

“There,” he stated. “Just to be extra certain. I meant what I said.”

Trent sighed, thoroughly fucked and fucked hard, splayed out over the mattress with the sheets damp from her shower and probably from the cum as well. She didn’t care though. Brian had a way of leaving her satisfied, she thought to herself. And if pretending to fuck a baby inside of her would make her come as hard as she did, then fuck.

She’d let him do it again.


	7. Like I was a Whore

With a heavy sigh, Trent flopped down on the hotel bed, upsetting the plush comforter and cushy pillows. This was nice. Nice that he could put every gig, every session in the back of his mind for now. Now it was just him. Just him and Brian. It was Brian who decided they would stay together, away from the rest of the guys, alone in this hotel room. Reduce some stress, he said. Keep him comfortable, sooth his nerves.

“Like it?” Brian asked with a smile, shutting the door softly.

Trent grunted against the pillows, very pleased. “It’s better than the others. I may not have to trash this one.”

Brian chuckled and approached the foot of the bed, running a gentle hand up Trent’s pant leg and smiling when he heard him groan softly. “Comfortable?” he crooned, and he received a small grunt and nod in response. Trent turned on his side and offered a small smile. He could see just a hint of Brian’s smirk and casually rolled his eyes while resting back on his stomach.

“What’s your angle, Brian?” The question sounded more like a statement, a “I know what game you’re playing Brian Hugh Warner, and you’re not fooling me this time” kind of statement to which Brian pretended to be quite taken aback.

“No angle,” he shrugged, amused. “Just want to keep my kitten relaxed.”

“Don’t call me kitten.”

Brian pouted. “You love it when I call you ‘kitten’.” He thought he saw a soft blush spread across Trent’s cheeks, but he looked away just as quickly. Cute, Brian mused to himself.

“You want something,” Trent said, muffled against the pillows and sheets. “I know you do, _love muffin_.”

Laughing softly, Brian shook his head. “Okay, now you’re just overdoing it.”

Trent instantly sat up and scoffed, ushering more giggles out of Brian and then flopped back down. Brian watched him for a minute, his smile remaining but growing more and more distant. He chewed on his lower lip, nervously upsetting the ring and tentatively crawled closer. Nudging Trent’s shoulder aside, Brian turned him on his back and hovered over him. Trent stared up at him, slightly bewildered, and then his eyes followed Brian’s gaze down his chest and toward his crotch, settling there.

“You wearing them right now?”

Wordlessly, Trent nodded, the faintest beginnings of a smirk showing on his face. Brian flicked his tongue out over his lower lip and kept his eyes trained on his fly. Without thinking, his hand slowly traveled down towards the waistband of his pants, and he hooked two fingers in, glancing up at Trent for permission.

“Can I see?”

Trent hesitated for a moment, and Brian thought he caught a flash of discomfort in those pretty, green eyes. Then he merely nodded, and Brian shifted to undo his fly, gently pulling his pants down past his thighs, then his knees, then his calves until they were resting at his ankles. Finally Brian’s eyes took in the sight he was just aching to see, something Trent did promise he would see again, a secret only he knew.

Brian sucked in a small breath. Hugging his waist and quite frankly doing a terrible job of holding everything in was that same pair of light pink, satin panties he had seen when he accidentally caught him wearing them backstage. They looked perfectly snug against his waist and ass, his balls and the outline of his shaft bulging out along the smooth, thin fabric. Absentmindedly, Brian ran a long finger down his member through the panties, mesmerized by it almost and definitely pleased with the slight twitch it gave against his touch alone and the small uninhibited squeak that fell from Trent’s slightly parted lips. He glanced up immediately at that and looked smug.

Trent, after realizing what had happened and was continuing to occur, quickly closed his legs as best as he could, appearing utterly red in the face. He averted his gaze, restless, and Brian hardly noticed yet as he remained busy leaving short kisses and little kitten licks along his tummy.

“Brian…”

The discomfort in Trent’s voice forced Brian’s head up, and he hovered over him, concern etched in his own dark eyes.

Trent bit his bottom lip, looking utterly flustered with himself, maybe Brian; he didn’t know. He finally spoke up, “I don’t, um… Last time you saw me in the p- in these caught me off guard and…” A finger to his lips made him shut up entirely.

“Trent.” Brian flashed him a small, crooked grin and assured him, “I swear I haven’t told anyone what happened that night. No one knows your dirty little secret except me, and quite honestly, I plan to keep it that way. Keep you all to myself.”

“Don’t call it that.”

“Jesus…” Brian started getting a little frustrated with how strained Trent acted, and he abruptly got up from the mattress, approaching the drawn curtains of the large windows. “You’re so tense. You’ve been like this since our first little run-in. I don’t know if you trust me yet, but trust me on this one. You need to _fucking_ relax. Naturally, I’m here to help you. If you’ll let me, of course. Just…” He paused for a moment with a sigh before continuing, “Draw yourself a bath, cut a couple lines while I order room service.” Exasperated, he turned to the covered windows. “Fuck with the curtains open.”

Before Trent could stop him, Brian pulled them aside with a fling of his arms and turned to him. Trent had pulled the covers over himself, countenance beet red, his teeth worrying his lower lip violently. Brian almost looked thoughtful for a moment, but he had a better idea in mind.

“Come here,” came his soft murmur. Trent glanced at him and looked hesitant. Brian only repeated his gentle demand insistently, drawing Trent towards him, making him get out from under the sheets and approach him slowly. He looked like a goddamn nervous puppy with his tail between his legs. The moment Brian laid eyes on those skimpy little panties however, all thoughtfulness flew right out the window he stood in front of.

“What do you got to be afraid of, Reznor?” Brian resumed a smug demeanor once Trent got a little closer to him. Wrapping his arms around him suddenly in a snake-like embrace, much too difficult to get out of, he continued teasingly, “Trying to protect your bad boy image?”

Trent wished his arms were free so he could lift them and flip him off. He grimaced and let his eyes travel to the floor instead of gazing into those dark eyes. “So what if that’s the case?” he mumbled under his breath, but with two fingers, Brian lifted his chin to meet his eyes.

“Relax,” he said slowly, his voice low, droning; the way it sent somewhat pleasing shivers down Trent’s spine did anything but relax him. In fact, it aroused him, and Trent found his lips planted against the taller man’s above him, softly at first; Brian knew how to be gentle, to ease into it before he could dig in to his full course meal. And Trent staring at him with those large green eyes full of uncertainty and need was only a mere snack. Brian was willing to take his time. Savor it. And he would be savoring him.

Trent broke away from the kiss first, but that wanton look in his eyes remained, hungry now just as Brian was.

“Good.” Brian smirked softly and tipped his head up by his chin with two long fingers. “You are finally listening to me. Let’s see if I can get you to relax even more.” With the last word stressed smoothly like a fine wine on his tongue, Brian allowed his hand fingering Trent’s jaw to trail down his neck, his chest, past his tummy, which made Trent squirm quite a bit at the feather-light touch, and down towards the warm area between his thighs that Brian longed to take into his hands and force all the embarrassing noises out of him.

Turned out, Brian didn’t need to wait long for that to happen and a slow, calculating grin spread across his face as he let his fingers reach in between and behind only to slide them up and out in one smooth stroke. Trent was only half hard but that would change very shortly. As if on cue, Trent’s mouth dropped at the wonderfully obscene gesture, keeping his eyes locked with Brian’s as a small, uninhibited noise escaped his pretty, perfect mouth.

“There we go,” Brian said slowly, a hint of triumph in his low, gravelly voice. “I’m going to make you fucking melt.”

“Jesus,” Trent moaned against the feeling of Brian’s fingers on him. “You’re not going to let this go.”

Brian chuckled. “It’s your own damn fault for indulging in my many fetishes.” Then with eyes that asked, a mouth that smiled softly, and hands that trailed fingers along Trent’s arms, Brian tugged at the hem of his shirt, and Trent, lifting his arms, aided him in taking it off. Just as he discarded it, Brian kept Trent’s arms raised high in the air and began to leave tingling kisses along his biceps, moving further down along his throat, mouthing at the tender, sensitive skin and leaving red, blushing marks as he went. Trent’s breath hitched sharply when he felt those lips and tongue glide across his chest and then dip under just at the base of his armpit.

Brian buried his nose in that soft patch of dark hair and inhaled deeply, smiling softly at how quickly Trent seemed to melt and quiver beneath the touch of his lips and hands. Pretty, he though. How pretty he sounds. Brian kissed and tugged at the skin around his naval between his teeth, and Trent grunted in a rather pleased way when those full lips glided over his hips, sending more pleasurable shivers to his groin.

“Just fucking do it,” Trent breathed frantically, head high in the air, hands grasping Brian’s long dark hair in huge fistfuls and then he felt it. That warm tongue of his laved its way from the base of his balls all the way to the tip of his clothed shaft, leaving a wet streak in its wake. Trent’s cock twitched beneath the fabric, so visible, Brian fucking saw it happen, in awe of how well he could do this to him. He did it again, just to get a rise out of him, just to hear him squeal, and the abrupt yank on his hair told Brian that Trent was just starting to listen to him and “relax”.

Brian rather enjoyed hearing the small, startled cry falling from Trent’s open mouth when he spun him around and shoved him towards the windows, rattling them just a little. Trent’s hands went to the glass first, splayed out to balance himself just before Brian advanced on him from behind, crotch pressed up against his ass, sticking out rather cutely in those pink panties. Trent instantly felt the girth of his clothed cock and released a shuddered sigh, looking out over the tops of the buildings. Pretty high up, he thought, and for some reason, it seemed a lot more thrilling considering what Brian wanted to do to him up there. Trent’s heart began to pound wildly, especially once he heard Brian’s zipper coming down, knew his cock was out. He only half expected the pleasurably violating sensation of his thick member rubbing between his cheeks, and he gasped audibly once Brian began to grind rhythmically against him.

“More...” he heard himself whine.

“Imagine anyone can see you just like this up here,” Brian growled, catching Trent’s chin in his strong hand, firmly gripping it as he captured his lips for a sweltering kiss. “They can see what I’m doing to such a filthy little slut like you.” Brian’s arm wrapped around Trent’s naked chest to hold him against him, and his free hand moved down to grope his fully erect cock, thumbing at the head between the fabric of his panties. “Mmm… so wet.” Trent mewled.

Brian continued to rut against him, sounding a bit more frantic. The soft texture of Trent’s pretty little panties felt so, so, _so_ good against his throbbing cock; he wanted to come all over them, paint his back and ass with his seed, mark his slut as his.

Trent was enjoying this too much; he knew that. The sound of his husky voice getting higher and higher until it nearly cracked through Brian’s ministrations was all it took for Trent to realize that it was Brian’s intention to have him coming once again in his panties. Damn him. But he didn’t want him to stop; fuck, he needed more, much more, more of Brian’s hand wrapped around his clothed, leaking shaft, more of his cock thrusting between his cheeks. And this kind of degradation, the one where Brian called him his needy slut with the side of his face pressed up against the glass of the window for any random person to look up and see was just enough to have him coming shamelessly. Perhaps leave a stain on the glass.

Waves of pleasure rolled through him as Brian’s hand sped up at a frantic pace, and he let out a high whine, breath coming out in shuddered gasps and short, grunting moans. “Gonna come?” Brian asked, breathlessly in his ear. Trent could hear just how condescending he sounded and almost wished he could hold out just a little bit longer just to spite him, but the only sound that came out in response was a defeated and desperate whimper.

Brian smirked and continued to stroke him down through his panties until he felt that hot, sticky warmth spread out through his fingers. “Damn, you filthy bitch,” he murmured, but there was no way in hell he was done with him yet, and Trent knew it.

Trent felt himself being thrown towards the edge of the bed just so he could lean against it, ass out, waiting as patiently as he could and still sensitive from his orgasm. Lightly, he ground himself against the mattress and whimpered for Brian to continue. Brian was more than close. Standing back a little and pumping up and down rapidly on his dick, he finally came, shooting out all over Trent’s bare back and his clothed ass. He gave a throaty sigh, throwing back his head in ecstasy and then moved closer lazily and somewhat drunk in his high. Pulling back the panties, he rubbed himself down, spilling whatever was left of him down Trent’s crack and watching it slide down, staining his pretty pair of underwear and letting it snap back. He chuckled when Trent squeaked.

“There,” he sighed, tucking himself back into his pants.

Trent turned around still somewhat breathless from coming that hard and slid down to rest his back and head against the foot of the bed, eyeing Brian with heavily lidded eyes.

“Hmm...” Brian hummed, pretending to think for a moment. “What else should we do to get you to loosen up, huh?” Trent groaned. “I know!” the former piped up, a little too enthusiastic. “Let’s head downstairs and meet up with the guys. I need a drink, and I’m sure you do too.”

“Brian...” Trent whined in a complaining tone. “I definitely need a shower first.”

“Oh no, no, no,” Brian grinned, wagging a finger at him. “No, you’re going to keep those on. I like knowing you’re in public stained with my cum. Makes me think no one can touch you.”

Trent grimaced. “Touching really,” he droned sardonically, “but how is this supposed to get me to relax?”

Brian merely shrugged. “We’ll just have to do something much later.” He winked, and Trent could only wrinkle his nose at him.


	8. Use Me

“Say it.” Manson’s eyes pierced like red hot coals down at Trent squirming fully naked on his stomach. His grip on his wrists at his back tightened and kept tightening when he received no answer. Trent whined and shifted uncomfortably on his lap.

“Please don’t make me,” he murmured.

But Manson was unrelenting and began mercilessly digging his painted fingernails into his wrists, making him hiss in the sharp pain. “Say it. Say you’re a control freak.”

“No,” Trent blurted out before he could stop himself.

“No?” Manson feigned incredulity and ran his long fingers through Trent’s hair before roughly pulling it back. Trent squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth, waiting and failing to withstand the pain. “Someone’s feeling bold.” Suddenly he released him and then landed a harsh slap to his ass without any warning of any kind.

Trent flung his head back and yelped at the severe sting, reducing it to a whimper as Manson began rubbing the spot his hand collided with. “No…” he muttered, burying his face into the seat of the couch.

“Say it.” Manson was unrelenting and spanked him again, harder this time. “You had the nerve to say plenty of other things to me while we were recording. In fact, you think you’re so perfect, all you can do is spit orders at everyone.” Another slap, and Trent squealed. “I think it’s high time you had a taste of your own medicine. Now say it.”

Trent bit his bottom lip and hesitated for a moment. He knew what Manson wanted him to say, and despite the fact that he was getting harder every second he laid a hand on him, his order stung just as much as his hand on his ass. “I’m…” He stopped shortly after he began and rutted against Manson’s leg, deciding to play along with this little game. Make him wait and then see what he would pull next to Trent’s own masochistic delight. “Fuck you!” he cried out defiantly.

Manson sneered, and the corners of his mouth turned up in a sadistic grin. “Maybe later if you decide to behave,” he growled, “but seen as how this is your answer, I suppose we’re going to be here a long time.”

Trent jumped as soon as Manson spanked him again, but he kept going this time, each slap hitting harder than the last, causing Trent to whimper and moan from the painful stinging sensation that strangely turned him on.

Manson chuckled. “Say you’re a control freak.” Instead of spanking him again, he gripped his ass and waited for an answer.

Trent shifted and squirmed in his position on Manson’s lap and attempted to turn to stare up at him. With Manson’s fist pinning his wrists together behind him and his entire body laying upon his lap in submission though, it was near impossible to look him in the eye. “Fuck y-“

Manson never gave him the chance to finish and removed his left hand from his ass to hold Trent’s hands in place. With his right hand, he grabbed his hair in fistfuls and shoved his face down into the seat of the couch, pressing down firmly so that Trent couldn’t breathe.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, slut?” he growled dangerously. Trent struggled, but he held firm. “Are you going to behave so we can continue?” Trent managed to turn his head to the side and look up as soon as Manson loosened his grip on his hair. “Are you?” The tone was more demanding this time, and Manson expected an answer, the right answer.

Trent’s lower lip quivered, and he closed his eyes and groaned, swearing he was getting harder with the dominance Manson was forcing on him. “Yes…” he whispered docilely.

The abrupt smack on his backside shocked him into full attention. “Yes what?” Manson’s eyes glittered. Another smack.

“Yes… Mr. Manson…” Trent whimpered.

But “Mr. Manson” didn’t stop there, and he earned another slap to his ass. “Good boy.” Another. “Now.” Another. Trent whimpered. “Say it. Say it and we will move on to something else.” Another. “I’m getting bored of your insubordination.” Another. Trent let out a throaty gasp, pained and aroused. He could feel the skin getting heated and raw from the treatment. “Say it.” Another. Trent’s voice rose to a higher pitch as he moaned.

“Say you’re a control freak.” Trent pursed his lips and rutted against Manson’s leg, which earned him another smack to his ass. He didn’t deny that he actually enjoyed being manhandled this way. Another smack at his continued silence caused Trent to jolt and raise his head with a gasp.

“I’m a control freak!” he sobbed out.

Manson smirked. “Such an obedient whore,” he mused and removed his hands from Trent’s body, allowing him to get up, trembling slightly. Eyeing his full erection, he smiled slyly and added, “Someone needs to get off, don’t they?” He stood up, towering over the shorter man, waiting for his answer.

Trent nodded quickly and then he blushed. “Yes. Please.”

Manson pointed to the couch and ordered, “On your back.”

Trent obeyed and gazed at his dominator through lustful eyes. He lifted his legs, and Manson knelt in between them, observing the red, welting marks he left on his ass and the way his cock throbbed and twitched in time to his heartbeat. Manson grinned and ran a gentle hand up the underside of Trent’s thigh. Trent closed his eyes and sighed blissfully, anticipating his next move. He desperately needed to come, but after that hand on his leg, Manson did nothing.

“Can I come?” he asked tentatively.

Manson leered and replied, “I don’t think you deserve it right now after being so disobedient a few minutes ago.” Trent whimpered in disappointment and then let out a loud, shameless moan as soon as Manson rubbed a thumb over the head of his cock. “You’re so goddamn horny,” the latter marveled and lightly pressed down against the slit, urging more precum to leak out. Trent nodded with eyes squeezed shut and writhed a bit beneath his finger. “Will you ask for it? Will you beg for it? Are you that desperate?”

A strangled sound escaped Trent’s mouth. “Yes!” he almost sobbed. “Please…”

Manson watched the steady rise and fall of his chest in awe and licked his lips at how terribly _yummy_ he looked. He wanted to taste every bit of him but restrained himself for the time being at least. The moment he would set his lips upon his body, Trent would lose himself entirely. Where was the fun in that? Instead, he wrapped his entire hand around Trent’s shaft and squeezed, quickly glancing up for his reaction. Trent was in distress, and the sweet, submissive sounds that erupted from his lips were enough for Manson to reward him with another squeeze to his aching cock.

“Ohhh…” Trent moaned long and low and bucked his hips up in a rolling motion for more contact.

“You like that?” Manson teased. Trent could only nod. “You ready to come?” Another nod this time more desperate than the last. Trent looked like he wanted to cry. “Answer me when I ask you something, doll.”

Trent swallowed and said shakily, “Yes. Let me come, Manson. Please.”

All of a sudden, Manson’s hand left Trent’s cock as easily and carelessly as he had grabbed it. He smiled at his sigh of frustration. “What did I tell you to call me?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Manson,” Trent said quickly and then squealed once Manson’s hand returned to his cock and squeezed a little more forcefully than last time. When he pulled roughly, Trent gave a small cry. “Th-that hurts,” he breathed in discomfort.

Manson leered. “Do you not want it to hurt?” Trent shook his head, suddenly very compliant. “Then beg for it.” Arching his back, Trent gave an aroused grunt and then remained still. “Say you want me to make you come.” It seemed Manson was growing more and more eager by the minute.

“Please…” Trent screamed and then purred in the pained pleasure. Manson had proceeded to lift his legs higher and pressed his index finger against the entrance of his ass before shoving it in all the way to the knuckle.

“I need you to be a little more specific, babe,” Manson murmured casually despite the fact that he was enthralled with how tight Trent was when he was inside of him. When Trent remained silent, he crooked his finger, ushering another scream more stimulated than distressed.

Trent’s chest heaved and sweat had begun to form at the hollow of his throat, glistening. Manson wanted to lick it; he looked so sweet, and he longed to see if he tasted as sweet. _Later…_ “F-fuck…” Trent’s mouth hung open in his vulnerable state, and he shuddered helplessly.

“Hmm… That doesn’t sound like an answer to me.” Manson, after seeing him adjust to just one, slid another finger in as abruptly as he had the first, crooking and straightening them inside of him mercilessly.

“Fuck!” Trent cried out obscenely and reached over his head to grasp the armrest of the couch possibly in attempts to rip the thing to shreds. In his strained euphoria, he grinned from the pain and pleasure, trembling, dazed by Manson’s fingers stroking his insides.

“You’re so easy to edge,” Manson commented. “Why don’t you beg some more? Or do you not want this?”

Trent’s eyes flashed open, and he shook his head frantically. “I want it!”

“Say it.”

“Please let me come!” Trent pleaded with so much desperation in his voice. He groaned, feeling as though he would explode if Manson wouldn’t do so much as to just _touch his cock._ “Fuck… Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Manson chuckled darkly and spit into his palm, which brought out a delighted squeak from the man lying beneath him on the couch. As soon as he wrapped his fingers possessively around his shaft and began to pump steadily, Trent gasped and the heaving in his chest resumed at a faster, frenzied rate. Manson leaned forward and hissed, “You can come when I tell you.” Removing his hand for a moment and enjoying the high pitched moan that followed, he spat in his palm again and grasped Trent’s dick, also making sure that his fingers did some work as well. Trent felt them curl inside of him once more and he keened, rolling his hips forward for more.

“Can I please come?” he asked for the umpteenth time, feeling the heat deep in the pit of his stomach simmer and then rise to a boil.

“No,” came Manson’s reply and Trent groaned in his growing frustration. “How about this? If you can impress me by taking another finger up your ass, maybe I’ll let you-“

“I’ll do it! Another finger. Please. Stick your whole fist up my ass. I don’t care. Just let me- oh, fuck!” Trent flung his head back against the couch just as Manson added his ring finger and never ceased in pumping his cock closer and closer to release.

He laughed softly at this and said amused, “Doesn’t sound like a bad idea, but maybe later when you’re not so wound up.” Trent glared at him and then rested his head back against the cushiony seat.

With the strange sensation of being stretched nearly past his limit, Trent closed his eyes, breathed out hot breaths, and begged only one word, “Please.”

Manson smiled, seemingly satisfied and bent his head to spit directly on his pulsing cock. Trent’s breath hitched in his throat, and he sat up immediately as he began to pump his shaft much faster than before. His fingers continued to fuck in and out of his entrance, and Trent’s breathing accelerated to heavy panting. He was so goddamn close.

With a broad, triumphant grin, Manson said, “Come.”

The strangled noise that fell from Trent’s lips was filled with lust and hours of frustration and edging. The heat boiled over, and he felt his muscles tighten as he finally came, hard, screaming and writhing and fucking against Manson’s fingers wildly. Manson himself made a noise that was caught between awe and shock when Trent released his load. Some spattered over his stomach and chest while the rest spilled over Manson’s hand. He continued to stroke and pull his softening member, coaxing the last bit of cum until there was nothing left.

Trent gave one last moan and then fell back against the armrest of the couch in exhaustion. Scooping up a bit of cum from his chest, Manson leaned over Trent’s trembling frame and forced his finger in his mouth, watching him suck on it greedily.

“Are you still going to be a control freak?” Manson whispered in his ear.

Pulling his finger out with a pop, Trent grinned coyly and replied, “If this is what I’ll be getting in return, then yes.”


	9. I'm Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK LISTEN UP.  
> This story and the next contain subject matter that could be very triggering for some. If you decide to read, read at your own discretion. No one has to read these if they don't want to. So this is a warning as I've also placed in the tags.  
> Please note that the events that take place are all for play and nothing is real.  
> You've been warned. I will delete any hateful comment because that just goes to show that you did not listen and decided to read anyway. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“Ever thought of spicing up the love life?”

Trent looked at Brian quizzically as soon as the question popped up. “Maybe?”

As if their love life wasn’t “spicy” enough already… Trent had toys. Brian had kinks. There was nothing they wouldn’t do together. Sure, they had their limits. Trent especially expressed those in the bedroom if Brian came up with an idea he didn’t like. Both of them had an aversion to scat thankfully but not for getting pissed on. And Trent much rather preferred being Brian’s toilet boy. Whenever Brian seemed to have a new idea up his sleeve however, Trent couldn’t help but shiver at the pre-anxiety jitters that managed to creep up his spine. Spicy. That was an understatement.

This time however, Trent grew uncomfortable because _he_ had an idea. A wonderfully, awful idea, he knew it was, but somehow he thought that Brian would be in.

Well, that was the first half of his brain talking. The other half chastised him cruelly that this was such a _shameful_ fantasy to have, how _could_ he _ever_ think it? He shouldn’t. And he felt disgusting for thinking that way. That little voice in the back of his mind told him he should think he was disgusting.

Of course, it was not like he actually condoned the act. He certainly didn’t appreciate all those fans touching him everywhere without his permission; one girl even managed to reach around and grab him there. Thank god he was not a violent individual in real life because that chick would have walked away with a bloody nose, probably crying. But there was some part of him that longed for Brian to do exactly that, violate him like he was just a toy, play with him rough, use him, abuse him, the works. Do whatever he wanted with him no matter how many times he begged him to _stop. Please._ Something about it made Trent’s cock jump to attention, so when Brian finally asked him _that_ question, Trent heard the alarms going off in his head.

What if he thought he was disgusting as well?

Brian stared at him thoughtfully, waiting urgently for any idea he may have.

“Um…” Trent averted his eyes and looked up at the ceiling, anywhere but Brian himself, bouncing his knees up and down anxiously. “Yeah, I guess I have a few ideas…”

“Well, let’s hear them!”

“Being tied up?”

Brian snorted rudely. “Been there. Done that. And it’s not like I don’t enjoy it because I do, Trent, but come on. Over done.”

Trent reddened and continued, “I want you to make me your toy.”

“I do this all the time,” Brian said, sounding confused. Laughing, he went on, “I abuse you enough. Didn’t I say new ideas?”

“No, _Brian_ ,” Trent pressed, eyeing him with a knowing look. “I want you to _make_ me your toy. Do it when you want to. Do it when I least expect it. Maybe even… when I don’t… want to…”

Brian’s eyebrows furrowed as the wheels began to turn in his brain, and he was slowly starting to catch on. Trent braced himself for his response and waited as patiently as he could.

“You mean,” Brian wet his lips, leaning forward, and staring at Trent with a calculating, unreadable expression on his face, “you want me to _rape_ you?”

Trent pouted, crossing his arms. “Didn’t say the ‘r’ word,” he mumbled, slumping in his seat. “It’s just a fantasy. It’s not like I want it all the time.”

“Yeah, but… you want me to?”

“Yes, Brian, I want you to rape the shit out of me,” Trent snapped, exasperated.

“No need to get so touchy.”

“Well, this is kind of a stressful situation for me!” Trent threw his hands up in the air.

Brian just stared, blinking, the corners of his mouth turning up slowly in a grin. “Why.”

“What do you mean why?” Trent asked incredulously. “I’m disgusting for even thinking it.”

The grin faded immediately, and Brian snapped his fingers at him, gaining his full attention. “No you’re not- why would you even assume that? Do you think I would think that of you? Because you know I care about you and your needs. I respect the shit out of you too much to even let that thought cross my mind.”

This time Trent felt more bad than embarrassed after Brian explained this to him. Of course, Brian would love him unconditionally. This was just another thing he accepted of him. Trent averted his eyes and looked at his hands. “I don’t know why I like it,” he murmured. “It’s just appealing to me. I enjoy pain. I enjoy humiliation. I love it when you call me names and make me do things for you that are normally out of my comfort zone. I just lie in bed at night and imagine taking this one step further. Perhaps it’s taboo but I want to try it.”

Brian looked thoughtful for a moment, but just when Trent assumed he would say something intelligent, he grinned, “Good thing I’m a sadist then.”

Trent sighed. “So you want to do it?”

Brian shrugged and tucked a stray lock of Trent’s dark hair behind his ear, making him blush. The gesture was so loving but what he whispered next made his blood go hot. “I guess we’re doing this on my terms only, hmm? And that means whatever I want, whenever I want to do it. You said when you least expect it, right? So don’t expect me to want to do this now or even a week from now. I’m making the decisions this time.”

“You always get to make the decisions,” Trent remarked. “That’s what makes you the dominant. We don’t need a safe-word then.”

“Of course we need a fucking safe-word, Trent!” Brian stared at him in disbelief. “Jesus, I’m not gonna be a complete asshole. What if I seriously hurt you?”

Trent mumbled under his breath, “Then we don’t have to do it. The last thing I want to do is force you to do anything that would make you uncomfortable.”

Brian bit his lip deep in thought and then glanced at Trent, searching his face for any sign of emotion that he would be having second thoughts. There could be a chance that he would hurt Trent and assume that any amount of begging for him to stop would be considered just part of the role-play. But this was Trent’s fantasy, and Brian wanted nothing more than to make his sub happy. If this was what he wanted, then he would try it. “How about this then?” he began, and Trent looked at him hopefully. “No spoken safe-word. You beg me to stop or tell me it hurts and I’ll ignore you. I’ll even gag you just to keep you quiet.” Trent felt that same rosy blush creep into his pale cheeks and closed his legs self-consciously. “But if I see you shake your head, then we stop everything, give you a chance to recover. I’ll know that you’re serious. Deal?”

Trent didn’t say anything for a long while, and Brian caught a brief flash of hesitation in his eyes. “Okay,” he said slowly, and Brian gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before getting up and venturing out to the kitchen.

“See you soon,” he smirked, and Trent gulped before he could help it.

The rest of the night was uneventful, and Trent wished he could breathe a sigh of relief, but he remained on edge throughout the whole night. Brian wanted to watch a movie and pulled Trent in for a cuddle, but all Trent could think about was _when_ Brian was going to jump him. Maybe he just needed to shrug it off; this was his fantasy anyway, this was what he wanted Brian to do, but there were those jitters again, making him bite his lip in his thoughts with a far away look in his eyes, hardly keeping his eyes focused of the screen showing him the excessive body horror. Maybe Brian could sense his nervousness because Trent felt his full lips press against the side of his head, heard him breathe in deep the scent of his hair.

“New shampoo?” he inquired. Trent nodded wordlessly, and Brian hummed contentedly in approval. How the _fuck_ was he so casual about all of this?

The movie was over, and ‘click’ went the remote as Brian turned the television off. Trent jumped out of his sleepy state at the familiar noise of static and the sizzling hiss and then felt his eyes grow heavy once again. His head met Brian’s shoulder, and he felt his arms haul him up before he passed out. Only with him. Anyone else touch him like that and there _would_ be plenty of bloody noses to go around.

Trent was fucking _exhausted_ by the time he got home. Murder House always seemed like the perfect place to rest his head and crash; if there were any ghosts around, the company seemed a comfort; he used to get awful lonely in that big house most of the time, but with Brian and the dogs, he got used to the expanse of it, seemed a lot smaller and cozy- if one could call ‘pig’ stained in blood on his front door ‘cozy’.

A few pups greeted their master happily with a jump, front paws resting on his chest, calves, anywhere and quick, slobbery kisses to his mouth. Trent chuckled once, tiredly and then gently shoved them off one by one. He beckoned them to their dishes, fed them with a few pats and kisses, and then stood up to shrug off his jacket and make his way to his bedroom. Soft shuffling from down the hall made him freeze in his steps.

Was Brian home?

He assumed he was still with Stephen and Brad; perhaps he decided to leave earlier than he did, and that possibility calmed Trent down for only a minute, but he remained wary and crept down the hall towards his room, pausing at the door, a little thought pressing him in the back of his mind. Trent opened the door anyway, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw Brian sitting in the lone chair, looking quite relaxed, legs crossed, and with a pleasant smile on his face. Trent slowly gave him one back and opened the door fully, leaning against the door frame and letting his smile widen.

“Welcome home, honey,” Brian purred in that low drone of his voice.

“Thanks, dear,” Trent retorted back sarcastically, allowing Brian to approach him and kiss his lips, sweetly. “I thought you’d be back later. Brad and Stephen wanted to fuck around.” He gasped once as Brian’s full lips left an open-mouthed kiss at his throat, the hand in his hair pulling his head back for better access. “Brian…”

“I wanted to return early to play with you,” his dominant cut in, yanking a little harder on his hair and making him hiss in pain. “Take off your clothes.”

Trent frowned against Brian’s lips and tried to pull away, but the latter held fast on his shoulders, backing him up into the wall. “Too tired, man…” he whined, pushing against him suddenly desperately. “Come on, Brian, get off!” The moment he tried raising his hand to his face, Brian snatched at his wrist like a viper and tightened his grip, enough to caught off circulation. Trent’s eyes flashed his way with fear briefly, but he seemed to be catching on with Brian’s main intention, and his blood went from cold to hot, his cheeks flushed red, his temples throbbing violently in his ears.

 _Snap_ went the handcuffs as Brian slapped them to his wrist, and Trent gave him one look and bolted without a thought, the only sound apparent to him was the blood rushing in his ears.

If he thought he could get any further, he didn’t; Brian’s grip was firm, and he yanked him back against his chest, chuckling “oh no, no, no!” flush in his ear. Trent grit his teeth and growled as he struggled, flailing in his strong arms like a mad cat. Brian gained the upper hand however, hauling him up off the floor and watching Trent kick his legs in the air wildly, breath ragged already; guess he wasn’t going to make this easy for him, Brian chuckled to himself. What fun. It took nothing for him to drag Trent towards the bed, kicking the door shut behind him with a loud slam, loud enough for Trent to hear the dogs bark from the other side and down the hall. No. No one would be coming to save him, and he felt his blood travel further. As it drained from his face, he felt a wave of cold then hot wash over him, and he shivered.

“Ungh!”

Trent blinked the automatic tears back as his teeth crashed together when Brian dropped him on the mattress carelessly. Blinded for a moment, Trent scrambled to get to his knees and perhaps make his escape, but his efforts were futile as soon as he felt Brian take a seat and straddle his hips, keeping him pinned to the bed. Grabbing ahold of his handcuffed wrist, Brian hastily strapped him to the headboard and then took another set of handcuffs, doing the same to his other wrist. Trent began to scream and curse while he did so, flailing about so wildly on the bed, it took all of Brian’s strength just to shove his face into the pillows. Trent’s screams were muffled and not long after, his lungs started to burn.

“Shut up,” Brian growled with a fistful of Trent’s hair, watching with glittering eyes as he struggled to breathe. “Or I’ll spill your fucking guts.”

With a rough shove, he let Trent go, who whimpered, look around restlessly and almost forcing another laugh out of Brian. He felt thumbs hook in the waistband of his leather pants and suddenly didn’t care about heeding the warning prior. He continued to scream, shouting strings of obscene curses and ‘no’s’ as Brian tugged down his pants to his ankles and flung them to the side somewhere. The underwear was the last to go, so when Trent felt Brian yank on those, he whipped up some tears, desperate tears that made his voice break and crack helplessly. He tried to kick, but once Brian had a hold of the underwear, he slammed his hand down on Trent’s ankles, nails digging into his flesh viciously, sure to leave a few bruising marks, and held him in place.

“Ah, you wore the black ones today,” he crooned deviously, twirling the flimsy material with his finger. Trent screamed in response, to which Brian leaned forward, a ruthless snarl crossing his face, took Trent by the hair, and shoved the underwear in his mouth. “Guess I’ll have to shut you up myself.” Trent choked once and then whimpered and whined once he moved from looming over him and made his way down his body.

Brian took Trent’s hips in his large, strong hands, thumbs smoothing over and stroking his cheeks, and parted them with a ravenous sigh.

As soon as Trent felt that long, wet tongue lave over his vulnerable, quivering entrance, he stiffened instantly and screamed into the makeshift gag, the sounds he made high-pitched and whiny. He very nearly squealed. When Brian refused to stop and the pleasure made its way up towards his groin, Trent thrashed violently on the bed, rattling the headboard he was connected to and shrieking some more.

“Even with the gag, you’re still so fucking loud.”

Brian hovered over Trent once more, sliding his hand up his shirt and hiking it up a little, exposing his back. Brian’s mouth watered, and he bent down, baring his teeth and biting down on Trent’s side just below his ribs. As usual, he always tasted delicious and smelled so fucking sweet. Perhaps he’d bite him a little harder later, leave some really prominent marks. And it was such fun to hear Trent whimper some more. He didn’t remain there for too long as he moved back up and grasped the front end of Trent’s dark grey t-shirt, yanking it up and over his head sharply and letting it rest against his neck. Brian gave Trent a rough, quick feel afterwards, pinching and brushing over his nipples, ushering more of those pathetic noises out of him.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmured, something dangerous etched in his growling voice, “even when you scream and cry.”

Trent screamed one more time as Brian made his journey down, spreading his legs roughly and getting into position, feeling the warmth between his white thighs. The latter gave a husky sigh, produced a condom from his back pocket, ripped it open with his teeth, and began unzipping his fly. The noise sounded hollow in Trent’s ears, and his temples throbbed in his head while his heart pounded heavily in his chest. Something surged through his body, but he didn’t know what to call it, whether an adrenaline rush or simply the fear he produced for Brian just to make him seem more powerful. Either way it sent shivers like millions of needles and pin pricks down from his neck, along his spine, and towards the small of his back.

“Keep still,” Brian growled, “or it will hurt more.” And then he pushed in.

Trent felt that cool sensation of the bit of lube Brian applied to the tip of the condom, but it only seemed to be for his benefit of getting inside and not for Trent’s preferred comfort. Trent realized this as the burning pain shot through his lower half, forcing a short cry out of him once. Tears stung his eyes as Brian shakily thrust in further, all the way up to the hilt, placing his palm on Trent’s back for leverage. His hot breath wafted over Trent’s neck, who shivered and trembled in reply, releasing an agonized, strangled grunt, each time Brian managed to thrust himself deep inside him. He couldn’t admit that it hurt less and less each time he did it, because it didn’t; the friction only seemed to make it worse in fact. Trent’s tears mixed in with his snot and spit, and he gave up struggling, collapsing in a heap against the rumpled sheets and pillows.

Brian bit his lower lip hard while he watched with lidded eyes as Trent’s cute little ass swallowed every inch of his thick cock whole. He wanted to tell him how beautiful he was, how stunning he looked all vulnerable and tied up like this, but he kept his mouth shut. Play the part for him. Make himself seem as inhuman as possible. Brian kept his eye on him though; every time it seemed like Trent could go over the deep end, fall apart, he never shook his head once. At this moment, he appeared quite unresponsive, and Brian felt so tempted to say the safe word himself and bring everything to a stop altogether. He didn’t however, because he knew he was doing this to indulge Trent a little. So, playing up the theatrics a bit, Brian grabbed ahold of Trent’s wild, dark hair, holding him up as he thrust into him at a much faster rate, feeling himself get close, so close he could explode any minute now.

Trent’s eyes were mere slits, squinted in pain from having his hair pulled, and he grunted and groaned with Brian when he finally spilled his load inside of him. Brian gave two more deep, harsh thrusts, arms wrapped around Trent’s neck and chest and then pulled out of him, throwing the condom away. Trent slumped down in the bed with an exhausted moan, trying to ignore the low chuckle from Brian while he watched him.

They weren’t done yet.

Tucking himself back into his pants, Brian tackled Trent again, legs mounted on either side of his hips, keeping him pinned where he lay, and Trent let out a whiny, exhausted moan against the gag, drool dripping down his chin, dripping over Brian’s fingers when he grasped his face to look him in the eyes.

“Don’t you want to come too?” he simpered in a condescending tone, wiping Trent’s spit down his bare chest. Those slender fingers then reached down further and grasped onto him, making Trent jump and whimper, eyes begging him to stop, please. Brian gasped in delight at the hard length engulfed in his hand, and he purred at the oozing sensation of Trent’s pre-cum leaking over his fingers that had begun to stroke determinedly. “Well, what do you know? You wanted this all along, didn’t you kitten?”

“No…” Trent mumbled against the gag in his mouth, but it was lost to Brian, though he took his incoherent answer as denial.

A gentle, wicked chuckle and Brian continued, “Yes you did, don’t fucking lie to yourself.” He clicked his tongue at him and shook his head. “Your mouth may say no, but your cock says yes.”

Trent whined, bucking his hips into Brian’s fingers and hearing the soft coo of approval from his dominant and attacker as he kept pumping his shaft and offering glorious friction that nearly made Trent go cross-eyed. The pain in his ass didn’t seem half as bad as the pleasure to his cock from Brian’s fingers overtook him and sent him over the edge.

Brian let out a pleased, breathy “ohh...” as the hot seed spilled out over his hand and grinned almost evilly at the broken, sob-like moan that escaped Trent’s pretty, compromised lips. “Beautiful…” he murmured, but he didn’t stop there. In fact, he didn’t stop at all, and Trent jolted upright in the bed with a shriek of pain when he felt Brian’s palm polishing over his head. It was unbearable, and if he tried to squirm out of his grip, Brian held him down and still and made him deal with it, hand grasping the back of his neck like one would a dog. “That’s it… that’s it… give me all of it.” When he had nothing left to give, Brian finally released him and left his side. Trent heard footsteps enter the bathroom next door, heard the water run, and then turn off. He did nothing, made no other sounds, and simply lay there, wrecked, spent, and used, exactly what he wanted, how he wanted it, but left with so many questions and worries that flooded his mind. His body seemed to be in a state of shock, but his mind screamed for Brian to come back and take care of him. Was it over yet? Then he remembered Brian hadn’t outrightly stated that it was over. He remained his victim until he fucking said so.

The soft hand gently rubbing between his shoulder blades made him want to cry like a baby. Trent heard the cuffs rattling as Brian dutifully unlocked them and freed his aching wrists from their bonds. As soon as he felt the release, Trent dropped his arms like a limp rag doll, eyes gazing off dreamily to the side at the wall. Blank stare, blank wall. Brian watched him, pulled the gag out of his mouth, and turned him over, readjusting his shirt. That’s when Trent started to form some type of reaction; he sat up, still trembling visibly, trying to catch his breath in his exertion and eyed Brian somewhat warily.

Brian hated that. He started regretting even agreeing to this in the first place.

“It’s over now, kitten,” he whispered soothingly and simply waited. He didn’t reach out for him; he sat across from him on the bed, anticipating Trent’s next reaction.

Trent blushed at the pet name and huddled his knees close to his chest.

“Is it what you were expecting?”

“I don’t know,” Trent murmured softly.

“Did I hurt you too bad?”

Trent shook his head no. “Felt good,” he mumbled, suddenly feeling ashamed of himself. Brian stared at him for more clarity but he spoke up. “No really, it did. I told you, I love it when you use me like that. I suppose my body is trying to catch up with how my brain is feeling right now.”

Brian nodded in understanding, wet his lips, and asked, “Will you let me touch you then? I need to clean you up.” He stared at him expectantly. “Aftercare,” he reminded him. This time he reached out his hand and waited.

Trent hesitated for a moment before tentatively taking his hand and allowing him to lead him to the bathroom. Brian turned on the faucet to the bathtub and let the water run hot. He focused his attention on Trent and wet a washcloth, dabbing at the remaining tears, snot, and spit on his face. Trent let him work, feeling the gentle thump of his heart skip. When he led him to the tub, the water was steamy, and Trent sighed as it lapped against his body in soft, little waves. Any aches and pains left him, and he actually glanced at Brian with a small smile. Brian took that as his chance to ask more important questions.

“I need to know how you’re feeling,” he pressed, his low voice in a softer tone. “You wanted me to do this, and we tried it under my circumstances. Would you ever consider wanting to do this again knowing the toll it took on your body? I don’t want to scar you.”

Trent almost laughed outright as he leaned, resting his arms against the edge of the tub. “I thought you knew what a masochist I am. You’re not scaring me away.” He paused and in a lower voice remarked, “I thought this would scare you away.”

“Whatever fantasies you have in this relationship, I won’t judge you.” Brian tucked a wet lock of hair behind Trent’s ear like he normally did and ran his thumb across his lower lip. “I’m willing to make this work as long as I can keep you safe.”

Brian dried him off slowly and soothingly, making sure to remain as gentle as possible and then led him to the bed, wrapping him up in a warm, cushy blanket from the bottom of his chin to the tips of his feet.

“Come here, my little cinnamon roll,” Brian cooed with a giggle as he wrapped his arms around Trent in a loving embrace and held him close, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of his head.

“Brian, I swear to fuck,” Trent grumbled, wrinkling his nose and trying to shift away. “Don’t call me a cinnamon roll! I don’t even know how this became a thing.”

Brian laughed at his exasperated expression and then moved to kiss his cheek. “It’s because you’re small…” Another kiss to his jaw. “And delicious.” The kiss against Trent’s lips seemed to send sparks of electricity down his spine, and that rosy tint flooded his cheeks once more, especially when Brian’s soft, full lips mouthed at his neck, not hungrily, just sensually, sweetly. Trent sighed into it, leaned against Brian’s chest, and closed his eyes.

“So,” Brian began slowly, and Trent heard the devious tone of amusement in his voice, “say you wanted to do this again…” Trent glanced up at him inquiringly, so he went on. “Say I roofied your drink at any time when you weren’t looking, had my way with you then while you were knocked out, only to have you feel it for days. What would you say to that? Find a couple bruises and bites on your body and wonder where the fuck you got them?”

Trent gave a small grunt and wriggled in his blanket. “Jeez, are you trying to get me hard again?”

“Or say I just come up with a scenario. I’d explain it to you and make you my victim. We use an actual safe word when we need to, but in the interim, you do everything I say whether you want to or not. What about that?”

“Sounds like someone actually enjoyed what he did to me back there,” Trent teased, eyeing Brian with a grin and getting an amused snort in response. “Anyway, I have no aversion to it as long as I can be pampered just like this after you have your way with me. You can fuck me as hard and long as you want, do all the terrible things you’d like to do to my body, and I’d still need a good cuddle afterwards.”

Brian chuckled. “Thought you didn’t care to use the c word.”

“Just shut up and hold me, Brian.”


	10. You Let Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please see warnings of previous chapter. This story contains sensitive subject matter. Nothing is real. All is negotiated between characters.

To put it bluntly, Trent liked to fantasize about being raped. Naturally to the rest of society, that was considered quite a taboo kink to have, and for a while, he used to think that he was disgusting for even allowing the idea to cross his mind. It weighed in on his anxiety so much, he didn’t think he could ever look Brian in the eyes again if he told him. Brian was his dom, and he certainly didn’t want to scare him away. But he undoubtedly assumed he would.

Brian however, was like some sort of sadistic saint to look him in the eyes and tell him he didn’t think he was abhorrent for thinking such things that anyone else would damn him for. He did worry about hurting him, but Trent assured him that this was something he wanted to try and eventually Brian gave in and indulged him in this fantasy. At Trent’s insistence, they decided not to use a safe-word during the scene, but Brian was stubborn enough and caring enough for his sub to stop if Trent so happened to shake his head in the negative. They weren’t going to be _stupid_ for this kind of role play. Now it became a normal thing for them both, negotiating scenes, discussing what kind of attributes they wanted to add to spice it up a bit- not that it wasn’t “spiced up” already. Scenes with rope or guns or even Brian’s fists seemed only the beginning of what Trent wanted Brian to do to him, of what Brian agreed to do to satisfy his sadism to Trent’s masochism.

This time, Brian wanted to try something entirely new during their intimacy. He mentioned it to Trent before to which Trent responded with eagerness and curiosity, and afterwards, his heart thumped with anxious anticipation, wondering when exactly Brian would jump him again. Like always, it was when he least expected it. Kinda the whole point, right? Excitement. Anxiety. The fear of pain. The arousal that came with the pain. These were things Trent expected from a relationship like theirs, a relationship with edges, razor sharp but limitations and boundaries. They both valued each other’s safety and sanity above all else yet did not hesitate to indulge in each other’s needs, fantasies, desires of flesh and spit, mouths and fingers, heat and sweat. Trent drank it up every time while Brian poured it down his waiting throat. A small paradise within the pit this side of heaven. This side of heaven being a house filled with ghosts, trashed rooms some days, raging parties on others.

If it wasn’t obvious enough, Brian tended to occupy the Murder House or Pig House -however he wanted to call it on any day of the week- whenever Trent was busy. Not necessarily to trash it or flood it with groupies as was the norm for most rock musicians like he and Trent. Brian could be a dutiful boyfriend when he wanted to be, he grinned to himself as he dumped a heaping pound of noodles in the pot of boiling water. He reached for the bottle of wine, but stopped himself as soon as the thought crossed his mind. He didn’t want to fuck him up _too_ bad, nothing to force him to call the paramedics afterwards. Nope. Didn’t want that. Brian sighed and ignored the bottle before reaching into his back pocket for the plastic baggie containing the two little pills.

Of course he was going to be _that_ guy, humming the familiar tune of “Baby It’s Cold Outside” while he casually crushed a couple of pills under a glass. If one would surely have him fall asleep, two would definitely, without a doubt knock him the fuck out. He didn’t want to fuck him up, only just a little bit, he continued to remind himself. Filling the glass with water, he casually poured the crushed pills in with it, stirring it all in with a spoon and raising the spiked drink to his eye level. Brian smiled.

“Say, what’s in this drink?” he chuckled. The particles gradually dissolved like melting snow within a snow globe. He wondered if he would be able to taste it. Wouldn’t matter, he shrugged. It would already be in his system.

Placing the cup to the side, Brian returned his attention back to the meal he made attempts to prepare and that familiar tune once again broke from his closed lips in a soft, gentle hum.

Their dogs' padded footsteps reached Brian’s ears, and he knew that the master of the house had finally come home. The pups sat at the door rather impatiently, some pawing at it and whining pathetically until the sound of large combat boots reached all ears. Some of their own ears perked up slightly, and Brian casually got up from his seat and began to set the table. Everything had to appear perfect, he thought to himself, make him feel comfortable. Don’t let him question anything.

“Hello, my loves,” Trent cooed, kneeling down to scratch behind their ears and earning playful licks in return. Walking into the kitchen and beholding the sight was the first of his surprises; he hadn’t expected Brian to cook, much less prepare a full meal for him once he got home. Normally take out between the two of them and rough sex afterwards before bed seemed to be the norm. Of course Brian could cook, no question about it, and much better than Trent ever would. Still, it remained a pleasant surprise. Trent smiled to himself as he sat down, inhaling deep the delicious scent of the appetizing food Brian placed in front of him. This would _definitely_ earn him the best fucking blow job he would ever get.

“Didn’t expect this,” Trent murmured thoughtfully, raising his head to gratefully kiss Brian’s cheek, who bent down to receive it.

Brian smiled good-naturedly. “I wanted to do something a little different tonight,” he shrugged, “just to surprise you, kitten.”

Trent blushed deeply at the familiar pet name, as feminine as it seemed and dug in avidly, absolutely famished. Brian watched him, slightly amused and then remembered he hadn’t given his sweet boyfriend anything drink yet. How neglectful. The thought alone of the minutes that would pass before it would officially set in sent him twitching in his pants, and he shot a mental order to himself not to blow his load before they even started.

“Water tonight,” he said, slamming the glass down in front of Trent, who quizzically glanced up, mouth full of food. “We have that EP to record, remember?”

Trent hesitated for a moment, and then his expression shifted to one of regret, minor disdain. “Oh, _right_.”

“Something bothering you, beautiful?” _Maybe not yet._

Trent took his turn to shrug nonchalantly and mumbled, “Richard has been getting on my last nerve lately… ‘Bout ready to fire him already. The prick is in for a rude awakening.”

Brian hummed, eyeing him slyly as he finally raised the glass to his lips, took a giant gulp. “No kidding.” He chuckled and continued, “I’d lend you more of my guitar skills, but I’m shit anyway. Have you thought about hiring on that one guy? Had a bird name, pretty tall?”

“This water is shit, Brian. I keep getting this bad taste in my mouth.”

“Must be the tap water.”

Trent eyed him warily, eyes narrowing just a little and for a moment, Brian thought he wouldn’t finish the rest. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when he watched him down the glass in two large gulps, looking him in the eyes the entire time. Brian maintained his gaze, and it took everything he had not to flash him that signature, wild, time-stopping, yet mischievous grin of his. Trent stopped instantly as soon as he got to the grit at the bottom, and a thought briefly flashed through his brain. Calmly, he set the cup down and dug his fork into the pasta, humming softly to himself, as if nothing could ever be wrong at this very moment.

Brian’s gaze was stoic, but his eyes were hard, calculating, black-painted fingernails drumming monotonously against the wood table. All he had to do was wait now, but it certainly didn’t take too long. Immediately, Trent’s movements had begun to slow, grow languid, so Brian took that as his chance to play with him a little.

“How’s the food?”

Trent hadn’t caught on to the taunting tone; he grew focused on other pressing matters, such as the fact that his fork seemed to grow heavier with each passing second, so much that he let it slip from his fingers and clank onto the plate. “It’s… it’s good...” A moan broke through at the end of that sentence, and placing a hand to his forehead, Trent slumped back in his chair, meeting his gaze with Brian’s, eyes glassy, almost crossing a little. Didn’t expect to see two Brians at once, fizzling in and out of each other. “What…?”

Brian leaned forward, the grin apparent now, teeth gleaming under the lightbulb, the shadows crossing his face making him look rather hellish. “It’s like nothing you’ve ever tasted, right?” Trent didn’t bother attempting to respond and instead gripped the side of the table, struggling to his feet. He failed miserably and fell forward on his hands and knees, breaths much heavier than they were before and slower too. Casually, Brian got up from his seat at the table, stood before Trent, loved how he towered over him; he appeared so small and vulnerable and helpless. Pathetic.

With his grip on Trent’s chin and raising his face in a sickeningly tender way, Brian bent down, eye level, observing and reeling at how defenseless Trent looked, mouth open gasping for air, eyelids heavy, lidded, face flushed, a pretty pink. “Gee, Trent,” he simpered in a condescending tone, “you don’t look so good.”

With as much defiance as he could muster, Trent snapped his head back, out of Brian’s grasp, mumbling something about “needing to lie down”. Brian hummed contently to himself. Yes, kitten, he thought with a sneer, why don’t you go and lie down. He was honestly surprised at how much he was fighting this, limbs shaky, just struggling and quivering to get down the hall, half crawling and groveling half stumbling. Amusement lit Brian’s eyes as he watched him, arms crossed while he allowed him a bit of a head start. Let him at least try to get away. He wouldn’t get far. Sneering at the thought, he finally dropped his hands to his sides and calmly sauntered after him.

It was a pitiful sight to see.

Rather than walked, Trent dragged his feet behind him, hands, fingers clawing at the wall as if that would give him more leverage to get to the bed quick enough. Might as well aid him to it. Brian’s sweet, musky scent flooded Trent’s nose, the only sensation he could concentrate on while he attempted his escape, and his arms enveloped him, hands at his hips, touching skin, riding up his shirt a little. Those hands directed him further towards the bedroom, mouth against his ear, tonguing at the soft flesh below it. Trent shivered and let out a little, weak sigh, which sent more blood rushing to Brian’s already turgid cock. Those large warm hands at his hips traveled further up and under his shirt, long, capable fingers counting, brushing over his ribs, thumb and forefinger tweaking and rubbing at hard, sensitive nipples.

“Hahh… Brian…” Trent practically whined his name, voice and slurred speech alone informing him that he wasn’t in the mood. Good enough for me, Brian thought with a devious grin and his hold on him tightened, one hand stroking his throat, the other continuing to fondle him underneath his shirt before sliding down sensually, past the waistband of his pants and underwear just to get a good feel of the goods.

“N-no, Brian…”

His apparent attacker clicked his tongue, denying him peace and hissed, “Oh yes, baby doll. Come on now. Be a good boy.” If Trent tried to struggle some more, his efforts were futile, for he had entirely lost all of his strength. “I can’t wait to play with you, kitten.” Brian’s growling, droning voice was lost on Trent, muddled, barely coherent; he sounded so far away. The last thing that seemed so horribly real to him was Brian unzipping his fly and then shoving him carelessly, face first, onto the mattress.

Brian looked at his victim through narrowed eyes, arms crossed, hip and head cocked to the side while he casually smoked a cigarette. Trent lay there in a heap, legs slightly spread, head turned to the side so he could actually breathe at least. Brian wasn’t going to be a complete monster and deny him oxygen. Taking another puff, he approached him, free hand reaching out to just touch him. He was gentle, but his cock strained against his underwear and pants, screaming at him to fucking take him already, fuck him in however way he wanted and why? Trent wasn’t conscious enough to tell him no. Brian leered at the thought, smoking billowing out through his nostrils. He couldn’t wait to see how his body would respond to his advances this time.

His hand rested against the small of his back, shirt raised a little just so Brian could catch a glimpse of that soft, pale flesh. Of course he wasn’t just window shopping; he would get his fill of the goods, but Brian liked to pace himself, take his time. Trent lying there looking like a delectable treat fit to eat made it much more difficult for Brian to keep his patience though, and it wouldn’t be much longer before he would be pounding into that tight ass. What a lucky guy he was to have _this_ all to himself!

“So fucking soft…”

Brian bit his lower lip and ran the back of his hand down Trent’s spine, feeling every bump until he reached the curve of his ass. Feeling a little more daring, a little more eager than usual, Brian put out the cig, hooked his fingers into his pants, and yanked them down abruptly, taking the underwear with them. He sucked in a sharp breath and stared. Trent’s round, perfect ass practically beckoned him to touch it, squeeze it, violate it. He couldn’t just ignore it. Brian groaned inwardly as he took one cheek into his hand and then the other, squeezing them both with some sort of desperation. Greedily, he parted them, staring at the cute little hole that winked at him, flexed when he tentatively ran a single finger down. Licking his lips and realizing that he had subconsciously gotten onto the bed in between Trent’s legs, Brian quickly alighted from it and rushed to the nightstand where Trent normally kept his lube and his toys.

Squeezing some lube over his fingers, Brian used his middle and forefinger and circled them around Trent’s hole before plunging in. Didn’t really matter anyways. Trent wasn’t conscious enough to react to the pain. As always, he was tight and warm and soft inside, just like Brian anticipated him to be, and automatically he crooked his fingers within him before sliding out and shoving back in, beginning a steady pace of fucking him with them.

“Fuck…” Brian murmured when he tried for three, watching in awe how Trent easily stretched out even more for him. He’d praise him if he was awake to hear it. After four fingers go in, Brian decided he couldn’t wait any longer. He quickly washed up and then returned to where Trent still lay, immobile, completely vulnerable for him. Unzipping his pants, pushing them down to his knees, Brian crawled into bed with him, taking his position in between his thighs and rubbing his own stiff cock urgently.

“I wonder if you’ll still be able to clench that little ass around me when I fuck you, huh?” he muttered with a throaty sigh while sliding the condom on and applying a bit of lube to go in.

Trent looked so good just like that, ass in the air, aligned with Brian’s leaking cock, and the latter hummed impatiently. He always felt so good going in, the familiar clench of those wet, warm walls tightening around him. Beautiful, so beautiful when he’s being violated against his will, so beautiful when he can’t even fucking scream no. As much as Brian wanted to hear it. When he pushed in deeper, the smallest sound fell from Trent’s lips, weak, maybe a little pained, but he still refused to wake. Brian denied it the allowance of deterring him from what he wanted most, and that was to fuck and molest Trent’s body in any way he so desired while he remained unconscious. And _fuck_ would he feel it afterwards.

Brian’s hands went from Trent’s hips to his back, sliding the shirt all the way up, then black painted nails raking back down, leaving delicious-looking red welting scratches. The thought of burning him with another cigarette flashed through his mind once, but he thought better. Nothing permanent. Instead, Brian leaned forward and sank his teeth hungrily, possessively into the soft flesh of his shoulder blade, continuing to rut into him like a fucking animal, hands grasping his biceps, his forearms, all the way down to his wrists, keeping him pinned.

“Almost there,” Brian whined, breathing labored, hipbones smacking against Trent’s ass rhythmically. “Been so good for me. So good. Good little toy. Little fucking toy. My own fuckhole to come inside.” With one last thrust deep within him, Brian finally did come, reaching his peak and sliding down into the sheer bliss and sadistic euphoria that of releasing within his unconscious boyfriend. Trent barely stirred through his curses of pleasure and dominant groans.

Trent woke with aches and pains, and he relished them.

His head spun just a little as he sat up, and millions of spots flooded his vision for only a brief moment before it cleared and he laid eyes on Brian sitting not too far from his bed.

“Wake up, sleepy head,” came the playful greeting, and Trent nearly forgot what happened hours ago.

He grumbled in response, hand resting against his head as the impending migraine began to set it. “How long was I out?”

Brian shrugged. “Not long.” His eyes softened when looking at him. “Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere.” Trent grinned at him though before sobering and placing a hand to his stomach. “Fuck.” He practically looked green, sickly green, and Brian rose from the chair to inspect him.

“Side effect,” he stated simply, brushing the hair from Trent’s eyes. “Need me to clean you up?” Trent only nodded, mouthing the word please, a little bit of color returning to his cheeks.

First Brian gave him some ginger ale and didn’t leave his side until he had at least drink some of it. Trent’s queasiness subsided enough for him to guide him to the bathroom. He watched him waddle in there, probably from the pain in his ass, throughout his whole body even; he wasn’t exactly gentle with him and part of him felt a little bad before the other part reassured him that Trent wanted this, remember? Brian kept thinking about it though, even while drawing the bath for them both. While he helped strip him down and did the same for himself, Trent noticed the obvious frown and pulled him down for a kiss.

“Stop,” he ordered firmly, though his voice still sounded a little weak.

“This was really risky, Trent,” Brian began to argue, discarding his shirt and casting it to the side. “I didn’t know two of those things could fuck you up this much, and I just feel like shit for not doing more research. What if you didn’t wake up at all?”

Honestly, he looked like he could cry any minute now, but Trent instantly stopped those tears from falling. “Hey,” he said softly. “I’m still alive. You aren’t rushing me to the ER or anything. You took care of me, knew what to do, what not to do, and I’m okay, all right?”

The water was steamy and soothed both Trent’s nerves as well as Brian’s. He held Trent close to his chest, periodically leaving sweet, quick kisses against the top of his head just to make sure he was still there. The fact that Trent trusted him this much. Brian found it hard to fathom it, but he was grateful for it, that Trent was willing to place his life in his hands, knowing that Brian would do everything in the power he was given to take care of him.

“You’re so beautiful, so precious to me,” he murmured in his ear, against the soft lapping of the water. “I would never do anything to cause serious pain or damage to you.”

“Jesus,” Trent marveled. “Someone’s feeling sentimental.” He turned to face him fully, moving to straddle his waist and place his hands on his shoulders. “Feeling that bad about it, huh? Wanna make it up to me?”

Brian finally grinned tiredly. “What is it you want?”

“Blow me?” Trent asked sweetly, raising an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t exactly get to come back there.”

Nuzzling his neck and mouthing at his skin while listening to his pleasured sighs, Brian muttered under his breath, “Couldn’t. You were under. Didn’t exactly send any signals to your cock.” He glanced down. “You hard?”

It became Trent’s turn to grin as he moved to the other side, resting his elbows against the edge of the tub. He looked fucking tempting just like that. “Maybe,” he shrugged.

Brian’s eyes pierced through him, and his own smile became devious as he glided closer to him before completely submerging himself. Trent stared at the misshapen-looking form in the water, felt those hands spread his thighs apart, and flung his head back with a little sigh as soon as he felt Brian’s mouth.


	11. You Can Use Mine Instead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I never top."  
> "Well neither do I!" 
> 
> ...
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ No problem.

“Jeez…”

John glanced down at the small wet patch on his underwear and snapped the waistband of his leather pants with an abrupt huff. He didn’t really want Rob to see it; how embarrassing that would be, and he’d never hear the end of it for weeks. “2wo’s guitarist, John5 enjoys jizzing his jeans around big, busty women in their latest music video.” Maybe Rob would call him a pig just for fun. Maybe he’d like that.

John sighed and removed the fur coat. Felt like he was removing at least another fifty pounds from his body. As much as he enjoyed wearing the thing, as much as it made him feel pretty sexy, he breathed a sigh of relief and tossed the coat somewhere in the room. He just managed to take off the leather pants once he heard a knock at the door. He jumped but answered it anyway, only in his underwear.

Turned out, Trent Reznor was the one who had knocked. John could feel the blood rush to his face; he probably looked like a strawberry, but if Trent noticed, he didn’t acknowledge it. Secretly, he thought the guitarist was rather cute, but of course he never told him. How could he really explain to him that sometimes three times a day he thinks of his cock up his ass? So instead of thinking out loud, Trent strode into the dressing room, nearly tripping over the fur coat and cursing softly under his breath. John can’t help the small giggle that erupts from his lips and moves to sit at the mirror and remove his sweat-streaked makeup.

“I don’t know how you can wear that thing,” Trent muttered after righting himself and plopping down on the couch with an exhausted sigh.

“It suits me,” John shrugged, cocking his head to the side and casting him a playful grin. “What about you? You didn’t just waltz in so you could watch me undress, did you?”

Even though Trent knew he was joking, he couldn’t help but let his eyes linger on that perfect ass John was talking about. With his back turned, he couldn’t see Trent observing the soft curve of his cheeks once he took off his underwear or his cute little back dimples that formed when he finally stood up straight and fucking flexed. Beautiful. And Trent wanted him. Wanted him inside him. He was just that pretty to him, pretty like a girl with his messy cut of blonde hair and lithe body. Trent normally liked girls that knew how to dominate the shit out of him. One thing was for certain: John5 would look fucking hot decked out in nothing but leather and carrying a crop.

Trent swallowed hard and finally looked away. He couldn’t think about this right now, but the gradually forming semi in his pants became definitely hard to ignore.

“Oh ho, wait a second,” Trent leaned forward, a broad grin suddenly on his pale face, and picked up the cum soaked underwear that John had so carelessly discarded. “What is this?” If John could get any redder… And Trent’s smirk only widened. “Guess those tiddies look bigger in real life than they would on the screen, huh?”

“Much bigger,” John could only mumble under his breath. Aloud he said, “Thought one of them was gonna whack me in the face with one.”

Trent laughed outright at that, catching John’s shit-eating grin. “Knowing you, I don’t think you’d mind that.” He sobered softly, a thoughtful smile on his face. Fuck knows how many times he avoided glancing over at John’s crotch, but the sight of his thick dick out like that was enough to get Trent’s mouth watering again. “Let’s get out for a sec. Grab a drink or two.” John’s grin only widened.

With more than a few beers between the two of them and Trent ogling at the utter sight of John’s crop top, they both made the wise decision to call for a taxi and stumbled into the backseat together. Heavy petting only seemed to be just the beginning, and Trent managed to get his hands underneath John’s form-fitting top, exploring his smooth, tattooed chest while their lips and tongues battled for dominance. John seemed to purr against Trent’s eager mouth, and thoughts of having this influential rockstar’s cock up his ass raced through his slightly muddled mind. It was a wonder the both of them could make any coherent thought at all considering how buzzed they were.

As soon as Trent felt John’s small, soft yet callused hands run over his tummy and down towards his clothed crotch, the taxi stopped abruptly, right in front of the hotel he was staying at currently.

“We’ll have to be quiet,” he murmured in hushed tones, maybe a bit too exaggerated and John covered his mouth to smother a giggle. Getting to his room took quite a bit of stumbling and shushing but not without a few hot and eager kisses as well. Before they both knew it, the elevator stopped abruptly with a jolt, making John stop marking up Trent’s neck with bites and licks and kisses and Trent to let go of John’s ass that he gripped quite fondly. Without much hesitation, Trent grabbed his hand and yanked him down the hall straight towards his room. As soon as he slammed the door shut, John found himself backed up against it, hair tousled in Trent’s hands which moved down to stroke his jaw and his cheeks before finding his lips with his own, hungrily nibbling and biting down, drawing a moan out of him from the back of his throat.

“Trent...”

The latter only grinned and slid down to his knees but not without leaving many hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses down his chest, stomach, so, so close to where the heat suddenly began to grow. Without waiting for him to do it, John quickly unzipped his pants and pulled out his semi-hard cock, aligning it with Trent’s eager, waiting mouth. Instantly, Trent parted his perfect lips and took him in, only an inch, pleased with John’s small grunt. Slowly, in achingly slow circles, he swirled his tongue around the head and gently sucked, glancing up coyly for John’s reaction. The guitarist threw his head back with a short cry and then hissed through grit teeth, quickly snapping his head back down to watch Trent work.

“Sensitive, huh?” Trent simpered playfully, scooping some pre-cum off with the tip of his finger and lapping it up with his tongue. His eyes looked so coy yet driven as he continued to look up at him.

John pressed his lips together firmly and only nodded, letting out a small whimper in response. The short buck of his hips made Trent’s smirk widen, and he took him in once more just to hear any other pretty sounds he could make. The only thought that raged in his mind was how good John would feel inside him. How amazing his cock would feel rubbing against his sensitive walls. Perhaps he’d use a strap on as well. Really stretch him out. Trent couldn’t help but groan around John’s quivering member in his mouth and almost seemed to purr when he felt dainty fingers glide through his hair. Maybe John would let him call him “mommy”. With a soft voice like that and such a feminine body, he seemed to give off that vibe.

Trent felt himself grow harder and decided to get more into it, hollowing his cheeks, making rude, obscene smacking and sucking noises. Even when he had a dick in his mouth, he still managed to be so fucking loud. At least, that’s what Brian used to say.

Trent abruptly shook that memory mentally and released John with a loud wet pop. He got to his feet, removed his shirt and pants in one fluid motion, and tugged down on John’s chrome slacks before pulling him towards the bed. John had only just managed to remove his crop top until the mattress creaked beneath his weight when he realized Trent had pushed him down onto it. The latter crawled in after him, straddled his waist with one hand stroking and caressing his tattooed chest almost lovingly. More lustfully. A shaky sigh escaped John’s mouth before he could stop it; all he could do was stare at what was happening above him. Trent motherfucking Reznor had begun to grind his clothed member against his own naked cock, sending them both spasming against one another, moaning like a couple of groupies having their bodies explored for the first time.

“Come here...” John practically stammered out, pulling Trent down, one hand behind his neck, playing with his dark, soft tendrils that spilled out over his fingers. Trent sighed into his mouth, continuing to grind and rut his hips up against John’s sex while the latter took the upper hand to flip him onto his back and do the same to him.

Throwing his head back into the pillows, Trent gripped John’s hips, helping him rock, gyrate his entire body back and forth on top of him. He bit his lip, hard, and, bleary-eyed, gazed up into John’s pretty face, lips wet, parted, eyes deep set and hungry. He needed this. Every moment of it. It had been too long, and now in walked John, pretty as a woman, and Trent felt ready to get on his fucking knees and do whatever he ordered him to do. And he would do it in that soft, sweet as candy, lilting voice of his. The kind that made Trent turn to mere mush in just a few seconds.

He couldn’t take it anymore. What with that pretty guitarist murmuring sweet nothings into his ear, encouraging him, urging him on, Trent felt as though he would explode unintentionally, and their little fun would end quite sooner rather than later.

Trent said it before he could stop himself altogether. Just those two little words followed by an exaggerated, whorish moan from deep in the back of his throat.

“F-fuck me…”

He didn’t expect John to stop altogether. In fact, he certainly hadn’t expected John fucking 5 to furrow his eyebrows and cock his head to the side on top of him, forming an absolutely perplexed expression on his beautiful face.

“Wait a second…” he breathed, bewildered. “I assumed _you_ were fucking _me_.”

Trent instantly sat up as soon as the words left his mouth. They both stared at one another equally confused and silent until Trent finally broke the ice.

“I never top…”

John let out a small grunt as he slowly got off of Trent and quietly announced, “Neither do I…”

Things couldn’t be anymore awkward, and once again the silence broke through; Trent and John could hardly look at one another without reddening deeply. In this case, John broke it by reaching out to run his hands up and down Trent’s thigh’s lovingly. “So… what do you want to do?” His voice was soft, softer than it normally was, like a gentle coo as if it dripped with honey, sugary, syrupy sweet. Trent could wrap himself in that voice and feel safe.

With a sweet yet lingering kiss to his cheek, Trent assured him, “I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.” A quick kiss to his lips and he continued, “But I think I have an idea.”

John gave a small hum of approval as he watched Trent get up and remove the last bit of clothing from his beautiful body. He strode to one of his bags lying in the corner, rummaging through, and from what John saw, he sported a noticeable smirk on his face. “Don’t tell me,” John grinned, draping both legs over the side of the bed, “got a couple toys from that box of dildos you’re so proud of in there?”

Trent flashed him a time stopping yet playful smile and replied with, “You never know when you’re going to need a few.”

“Shit…”

John quietly chuckled, and then he laid eyes on what exactly Trent produced from the bag. “Shit.” His eyes widened at the sight of the thing, and he couldn’t help but gulp. Surely… of course, Trent wasn’t planning on shoving that entire thing up his ass, was he?

As if Trent could read John’s mind, he smiled softly and reassured him. “It’s double ended. It’s going in me too.”

John absentmindedly nodded at that, eyes still wide, possibly still uncomprehending of just how Trent wanted to do this. “Oh okay… huh?” His head snapped forward in the singer’s direction, expression clearly asking him how exactly he was going to make this work. Trent merely giggled at the look on his face.

“I still need to get off too,” Trent explained, grinning. “And I figured since we both never top really…”

As soon as he realized what Trent had in mind, John sighed with one of those cute smirks of his and shook his head, watching Trent teasingly lick the tip. A slight twitch in his pulsing cock at the lewd sight of it brought him back to reality. “Jeez Louise, Trent…” he practically moaned, falling back against the pillows and sheets, waiting for him. “Just get over here already.”

Trent obeyed, grin broadening, dildo, a few plugs, and lube in hand. Once he got back in bed with him, he had to stop and stare, ogle at the fucking sight of John5 lifting his legs up and back over his head so that they nearly rested against the headboard above him. He was fucking… _presenting_ his ass to him, and at this moment, Trent Reznor finally realized what a cute little slut John was. He only had the chance to get on his knees and help him remain in this position to give him better access before a breathless “fuck” escaped his already open mouth. John merely bit on his lower lip coyly, another cheeky grin spreading across his face.

“Rob says he enjoys this position the best.”

Trent lowered himself slightly so he could leave a tender kiss against John’s rosy thigh. “So I’m guessing the two of you…?”

John made a face like he was thinking long and hard, puckering his lower lip out a little. How cute. “Once or twice, yeah.”

Letting out the breath he had been holding, Trent landed a light smack against his ass and chuckled softly. “You fucking slut.” John giggled back, wiggling his butt a little before letting out an abrupt squeak and whimper. Trent had spit at his entrance, watching it slide over his hole, down his crack and soothingly rubbed it in with the tip of his finger. One lubed up finger finally made it in, then two, then three, which reduced John to a moaning, begging mess beneath Trent’s gaze. His cock fucking quivered against his stomach while Trent fucked his fingers into him and the grip he had on his ankles tightened, making his knuckles white. Gave Trent a moment to admire his hands. How pretty they were. How small. He could probably fit his entire fist in Trent’s ass if he wanted.

Pulling his fingers out gently and wiping them on the sheets, Trent gripped John’s thighs and lowered his mouth down over his entrance, flicking his tongue out teasingly, just around the rim. John mewled once and then whimpered when Trent pulled away to reach for one of the plugs, lubing it up.

“Fuck…” Trent murmured mostly to himself as he watched John’s ass swallow the plug like it was nothing. “It’s in. Thought we were going to need something smaller.” John gave a soft hum of satisfaction and sat up to reach for Trent and press a lengthy, steamy kiss against his lips.

“Get on your stomach for me,” he purred, and Trent obeyed instantly, almost too enthusiastically as he flopped down, tummy first, on the mattress, waiting for John to take the lead. The first lubed up finger inside him made him grunt and once he felt him crook it, Trent shivered, attempting to muffle his noises with his fist in his mouth. The second finger made him let out a high whine and to calm him, John leaned in, hovering over him, and pressed a sweet kiss against his jaw, this time crooking three fingers inside him.

“More…” Trent moaned, allowing his lips to be captured by the ones that mouthed at his pale skin.

It even surprised John when he watched his pinky finger slide into Trent’s stretched hole, but he continued to work him open, muttering out breathy encouragements, how good he was doing for him, how pretty he sounded, how he’d like to hear more out of him. Trent only gave him what he wanted once John managed to unintentionally find the very spot that made him jump and twitch and writhe all at once. A sweet, needy sound escaped his raw, red lips until he was practically pleading with John to get him the toy. The guitarist obeyed and reached for the double-ended dildo while Trent rolled over and hoisted himself up on his elbows, watching him almost hungrily.

“Let’s see that needy hole,” John crooned. Trent spread his legs, and he aligned the tip of the dildo with it, slick with lube, slowly working it inside him, stretching him even further than he already was.

“K-kiss me,” Trent pleaded, the hint of a whine still in his throat. John did, cupping his cheek with his free hand until Trent finally bottomed out on the toy to which he gasped, chest heaving wildly looking from John to the dildo stretching him out. John planted another kiss to his lips before moving to position himself across from him. Hastily, Trent lubed up his end and held it ready, watching, mouth open, as John worked his way down, his own jaw slack, tiny beads of sweat sliding down from his temples. He glanced down, hand automatically moving down to stroke himself, and mesmerized by the scene, Trent began to rock against the toy, whimpering, waiting for John to do the same.

“Fuck, Trent-”

John flung his head back in ecstasy. He had found that spot and did whatever he could to make sure that the toy would continue to hit it. His mouth hung open, eyes rolling back in his head, the most beautiful sounds escaping his lips. Both of their moans and sighs filled the air, and wave upon wave of pleasure hit them both, making John keen and Trent moan at the sight of him rocking violently against the dildo. Desperate it seemed; John let it thrust into him further and deeper until they nearly touched, and he was practically screaming, knowing he was about to lose it, possibly all over himself, all over Trent.

“G-gonna come, Trent,” he whined.

“Then come,” Trent ordered breathlessly, eyes widening at the display.

When John finally did let himself release, it shot out; Trent felt as though his eyes were like saucers. Some of his seed splattered his face, dripping down his chin, but the rest squirted out all over Trent’s chest and stomach, making his own cock twitch and pulse even more. John let himself breathe for a moment, just breathe, his lovely tattooed chest rising and falling as he gently pulled the toy out of him, whimpering a little at the loss. Afterwards, he wasted no time in ministering to Trent, moving to straddle his waste, pull the dildo out of him, and murmur in his ear how sorry he is that he got him so messy.

At this point, Trent didn’t even care. He was too focused on John slinking down to lick his come off his body with that cute tongue of his. Coyly John gazed up at him as he did so, occasionally leaving a few kitten licks and kisses in between. Fucking slut is right.

Trent hardly expected him to capture his mouth with his. He could taste him on his tongue, bitter yet sweet like him, and he groaned eagerly into the kiss, the groan reaching a higher octave once John began rapidly pumping up and down on his cock with no intention of stopping.

“Oh, fuck- John!”

“That’s it,” John cooed in his ear, warm, sweet breath against his neck and chest. “Come on, baby, come.”

With Trent’s breath escalating to panting, he mashed his nose against John’s, the sounding of their breathing mingling together while the latter worked to get him off, and squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a strangled noise of relief as he finally came. John gave a sweet hum of approval and moved his hand up before Trent’s lips, licking his own as he watched him clean his seed from his slender fingers. Trent lapped it all up clean in his high, chest finally rising and falling at a more calmer rate.

John grinned. “Dirty boy.”

“Little slut.” Trent grabbed his face and pulled him in for a forceful kiss, tongue exploring the guitarist’s mouth and drawing out more pretty sounds from him. “That was…”

“Fuck,” John grunted in agreement, flopping back down on the bed with a groan and fingering the sheets lazily.

Trent moved to hover over him, a cunning smile on his face, the one anyone knew when he was brainstorming. “So I guess we won’t have a problem getting each other off in the near future, now will we?”

“Jeez…” John rolled onto his stomach but that didn’t stop Trent from leaving short yet heated kisses down his back. “I guess not.”


	12. Bella Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just guys being dudes. Softly.

Sometimes he just did not want to do anything. He did not want to focus on that particular track today. He did not want to live another day with the reminders of Brian’s bullshit, Brian leaving. Still raw, he thought to himself, running his fingers through his hair while looking closely at himself in the mirror. No business. No bullshit. No music even. He was starting to resent everything he did himself, considering he carried the weight of it on his shoulders, and he decided that tonight was the night that he would not think about any of it, any of the dreaded responsibilities at all.

Upon entering his bedroom, he instantly smiled at who lay on the mattress, sleeping soundly, waiting for him. He made everything better, forced all of those unwanted thoughts and that unwanted stress out of the window. It was only seven in the evening, but Trent smiled to himself, approaching the side of his bed silently and climbing in, wrapping his arms around John, curled up sweetly like a small cat, breathing evenly, barely stirring. Trent’s heart warmed and thumped wildly at the sight of John, dressed only in a pair of black underwear and one of Trent’s t-shirts. It looked better on him anyway, the former thought to himself, running the back of a single finger down John’s hip, thigh, resting his hand tenderly against his leg.

John shifted a little as soon as he felt Trent’s weight climbing into bed with him. He heard the light go on from the lamp beside him and twitched awake. “Leave the light off,” Trent heard him mumble sleepily and immediately obeyed, the darkness gently washing over them once more.

“That okay, love?”

John nodded silently and abruptly turned around to face him, smiling sweetly, a little tiredly, blinking away the exhaustion from his eyes. He nestled in close to Trent, the top of his head resting under his chin and his face nuzzling into his neck. Trent turned his head this way to place a soft kiss at John’s forehead and involuntarily moaned at the lovely familiar scent that flooded his nostrils, that of John’s shampoo. Strawberries and cream. Trent could eat him up, he thought to himself, practically burying his nose into his light blonde mop of hair and applying many kisses there. John giggled, his tone inquiring at his fascination, and Trent responded first by raising his head to kiss his nose.

“You smell so fucking good,” he groaned, kissing his cheek, moving from there to the soft skin below his jaw, lingering there for a moment before John took the upper hand.

His lips found his in an instant, mouthing at them and sucking down on his lower lip; it could be considered an art form how John kisses him, works his mouth to meet his so sensually, so inviting. His tongue flicked out ever so teasingly to have a taste, and Trent opened it readily to let him in, tongues engulfing one another without any need for establishing dominance; Trent had something else in mind for that entirely but for later. At this moment, the only important thing to him was John’s pretty, pink lips, mouthing and sucking on his own, tongue tasting and exploring him. Trent’s mind wandered. John’s lips looked so pretty wrapped around his cock, emitting the occasional, obscene wet sound that sent more blood rushing to Trent’s length. They looked especially pretty sucking on his fingers, licking them clean of cum.

If he felt he looked flushed, John outdid him by ten notches, the skin around his nose and cheeks turning a bright shade of pleasant pink when he broke away. A thin strand of spit split between the two of them, and Trent took that as an opportunity to offer John two of his fingers into his mouth. John took them in gently but greedily. Everything about their moment of passionate kisses and embraces became much more erotic than either Trent or John had anticipated, and Trent gained the upper hand, knowing how much John wanted, longed to be touched. He was right of course; John’s lips looked absolutely gorgeous sucking on two of Trent’s fingers. They emitted a wet pop when he withdrew them, and Trent almost came right then and there. John’s eyelids fluttered when he gazed at him, irises clouded over in lust, in need. Beautiful. Filthy, fucking John. Trent moved in, kissed him again, lips moving towards the corner of his mouth closer to his jaw while his wet, spit-slick fingers moved down, prodded John’s thighs apart, pushed the underwear aside, and rubbed against his hole.

Trent felt it quiver against his finger tips, heard John’s breath hitch in his throat, and smiled against his neck. He worked them in easily, sliding his way in to the knuckle and marveling over how perfectly John fit him in. He was definitely used to it by now considering how many times Trent pulled out a plug or a dildo from his collection.

“Trent…” John’s eyes were shut, brow furrowed, voice a little higher than normal, breathier. Trent curled his fingers and watched him writhe next to him. His chest heaved; he was already half-hard in his underwear and his shirt was raised just a little bit, revealing his smooth tummy expanding and contracting as he breathed raspy, shallow little breaths. Trent wanted to kiss it. Instead, with his free hand he palmed him gently through his underwear and leaned forward, nuzzling his neck, inhaling John’s sweet, warm scent, that sweet, candied scent of his skin. John felt him smile against him but had no time to react. Those perfect lips molded to his flesh, kissed the side of his neck with a passionate, possessiveness only Trent would give him. As those fingers straightened and curled inside him at a rhythmic pace, Trent’s lips moved to mouth at his throat more hungrily than any of the other kisses, and John saw little sparks flow out like a wave, felt them disintegrate in his body while he shivered against his lover. He leaned his head back just a bit more to give Trent better access, and a soft sound fell from his open mouth, pleasured, delicate.

Perhaps he thought he heard the word ‘more’ out of him, but Trent focused on the heavy, whorish moans that escaped, overshadowed any coherency and felt himself get harder by the minute.

“I bet you taste so sweet right now,” he growled into his neck, giving it a playful bite, pleased with the eager response. “You feel so good inside.” One more greedy bite, and John practically growled with pleasure.

“Uhn…” The moan was enough for Trent. Like a blissed out equivalent for him giving permission. To please fuck him.

“Can I please suck you off?” Trent murmured possessively into his wild mop of untamed blonde hair.

John instantly fumbled with the hem of his t-shirt, removing the bit of clothing from his body. Trent almost groaned inwardly as he took in the precious sight. John’s body was a revelation, giving Trent so many ideas on what he could do with it, violate it in so many obscenely pleasurable ways just to hear John whine like a wrecked little whore. “As long as you can keep doing that with your f-f-fingers…” He was too far gone, drowning in the pleasure Trent offered him, chest heaving and eyelids fluttering; he began to see stars when the tips of those piano fingers found that exact spot where John needed him to be.

“Mmm…” Trent watched with glittering, ravenous eyes at John twisting over onto his back and staring up at him pleadingly. Those fingers were still in his ass, curling and straightening like a broken record, ever so gently brushing over the spot that sent John into a fit of spasms and pleas. Please keep touching me. I fucking need it. Please… John minced a word under his breath and gave out a little yelp when Trent pulled them out and plunged them right back in, nice and deep. The yelp sent another twitch to his cock, and Trent pressed his lips against John’s one last time before making his way down painfully slow. Swallowing the whine in the back of his throat, John stared, bleary-eyed, mouth wet and red from the stinging, biting kisses as Trent pulled down his underwear to get a good look at his hard, leaking cock.

John had to bite down hard on his fist to stifle the loud moan that unfortunately escaped as soon as Trent tenderly took in the head of his cock with a following caress of his tongue. Trent hummed, and the vibrations of it only stimulated John further. He curled his fingers inside, and John curled his toes in response.

“Always so cute when I fuck you with my fingers,” Trent remarked somewhat teasingly while offering a sweet kiss to his head. John shuddered blissfully. “Can you feel me?” John nodded frantically with eyes squeezed shut and fists digging into the sheets mercilessly. Trent cursed under his breath. “The way you quiver around my fucking fingers… Enough to make a man come right then and there.”

“Could always tie you up later,” Trent wondered aloud, mostly musing to himself. “Body suspended in the air. Mouth taped shut, so I can just hear those moans and whines and whimpers. Edge you for hours on end. And when I finally let you come, I let you come again… and again… and again…” Every time he said it, he thrust rhythmically in and out of him, making sure to curl his fingers against that spot precisely. “Still tired?”

John shook his head, shaking. “Uh uh… Wide awake.”

Trent smirked somewhat triumphantly and finally lowered his mouth down to stay, emitting wet, sloppy smacking sounds as he began to bob his head up and down on John’s perfectly quivering cock. John almost cursed. Almost. He reeled from the sensory overload, writhed under the mere flick of Trent’s tongue, moaned from the glorious sensation of his free hand palming his balls and moving up to smooth over his tummy. When he felt he could take all of him into his mouth, Trent remained there just to torment him, throat closing around him, fighting off his gag reflex with ease. And those fingers never ceased pumping in and out of him, brushing against his sweet spot repeatedly, forcing John to see stars, little sparks bursting before his eyes.

“Trent I’m-” John let out a little sob-like moan and bucked his hips up once into his lover’s face. “I’m gonna come!” Trent did not relent however, and the arm across his concave stomach told him he wasn’t going to let him go until he released right down his throat. Which is exactly what he did with a short strangled cry. Waves upon waves of pleasure surged through every nerve ending of John’s body, almost as though each one raced to the finish line. The sparks showered over him, fizzling and spilling out to settle in his stomach straight towards his groin, and he twitched in euphoria, lips parted in a silent moan as the waves rolled over him one last time before settling.

John collapsed against the pillows and sheets with a blissed sigh, humming contently as soon as he felt the sweet kiss to his inner thigh.

The faucet turned on as Trent washed up and then off, and John felt the mattress of the bed shift as he climbed into it. John almost gave a startled cry when he felt his legs grabbed and dragged towards Trent. Instead he giggled, sat up, and settled in his lap, wrapping his arms around his neck and smashing his mouth against his in another passionate, fiery kiss. He could taste himself on Trent’s tongue and groaned at how fucking gloriously filthy that was. When Trent broke away, his hand snaked down to rub and pat his tummy, something he normally tended to do every time he helped him come down from his high.

“Fuck, it’s like watching an angel come,” he remarked breathily.

John blushed in response and then cocked his head to the side as a thought occurred to him. “Do you still need to as well?”

Trent bit his lip. “Perhaps…” He was far too busy mouthing at John’s throat and the side of his neck to think about his own needs.

“Maybe I could- unh… maybe I could…” As always Trent was the master at leaving him absolutely speechless and hopelessly distracted with the skillful workings of his mouth. Eagerly, his hands wandered to John’s chest, thumb brushing over his nipple, his mouth capturing the other and sucking on it hungrily. “Jeez Louise, Trent, are you trying to get me hard again?” A muffled chuckle from below told him he was correct.

Looking up with green eyes still glazed over heavily in lust, Trent inquired with a devious grin, “If I succeed, will you fuck me?”

John promptly moaned as he continued the lewd task at hand. “Maybe.”


	13. Black Widow of La Porte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mob AU where Trent is a mob boss and Brian, Tim, and Jim are his goons. And John is... well. You get the idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL. I got this idea just before things went to absolute shit in the world, and I just had to write something down. Let me tell you, this took up a huge chunk of my weeks in quarantine and it made it a little easier. Thank you so much for your patience, those of you who knew what I was up to. Those who didn't: SURPRISE! More sexy goodness from your favorite boys. 
> 
> This particular chapter is dedicated to Marina because as soon as I told them what I was thinking, they were in full support as always. Thanks bish lov u. 
> 
> Much love to all of y'all and I hope you enjoy more of the sin. xoxo

“Five.” The man, who greeted him, was tall and already overly domineering merely in his stature and the way he dressed. He flashed him a devilish smile and gestured with one arm outstretched to the rest of the room before him. “Come on in.”

Five offered him a hesitant smile and almost ducked past him as he went inside. Some days he thought he would be used to this by now. He pretended he didn’t just hear the chuckle from the man behind him. He wore a tailored, pinstriped suit with a silken vest, black collared shirt, and leather gloves. It almost seemed fitting despite the circumstances. He seemed like a man who always dressed for the occasion. Five gulped at the large black boots, large enough, possibly heavy enough to reduce him to a stain on the wall, and then he regrettably realized he was staring. Those wild-looking eyes swathed in black eyeshadow stared right back, and his painted lips turned up easily.

“You look parched, honey.” The man’s droning voice sounded friendlier this time, and when Five looked up, he held a bottle of cognac and two glasses, gazing at him expectantly with the hint of a smirk on his face.

Five shook his head instantly. “N-no, thank you.”

“You sure?” The man in black already began pouring one for himself. “Could put you in the mood better if you’d like-”

Before he could decline further, Five heard another voice break through the awfully silent room. It was low and a bit nasally at first, and Five caught a mixture of tones that should never mix in a voice yet somehow seemed perfect with this one. Honey and vinegar. The voice made him shudder without resolve, but the words he heard gave him a little more strength for the night ahead.

“Quit scaring the poor thing, Manson,” the voice tutted, and Five glanced up nervously at the second man before him just a few feet away. This one, though shorter and altogether smaller than the man he called Manson earlier, looked far more frightening than him in a much fancier suit, one of those that probably cost thousands upon thousands of dollars, more than Five’s rent, more than his life put together. It was not merely in the way he seemed to leer at him in even the softest way. He just looked far too sure of himself, full of himself but aloof. Quietly dangerous. One wrong step, and Five definitely would be nothing more than a stain on the wall. He decided he’d tread lightly around him tonight. Do whatever he said no matter what. He wore leather gloves as well. Perhaps to hide his fingerprints after he dumped Five’s body under the Golden Gate.

“Sorry, Rez.”

Five’s chocolate eyes bore into the man’s piercing green ones, dark like a forest after a storm. So _this_ was Rez; the infamous mobster, right hand man to the Mafia, most definitely worse than anything out of Goodfellas or The Godfather combined. Titles ran off in Five’s head that he almost forgot the man they sometimes referred to as the “butcher” was speaking to him.

“Is Five all they call you?” An amused glimmer crossed over the forest in those eyes, and he tried again, but Five caught the edge in his tone. He’d better listen. “Anything you want me to call you? Or not call you?” Were they getting right down to it?

Five swallowed thickly and answered in a voice calmer than he expected, “You can call me anything you like.”

At least he looked pleased with that and sat back in his large chair. “Good. Take off your coat.” So they _were_ getting right down to it then. “Manson, come take his coat. Take a load off, will you?” Five almost pouted. It felt like his big fur coat was the only thing protecting him from the cold and their hands. Manson stalked over straight away and abruptly but gently removed it from his shoulders. Five would have uttered a soft ‘thank you’ had he not seen the gun stuffed in the waistline of his pants. He stiffened, looked to Rez immediately.

“Something the matter, doll?” From the look on his face, it appeared as though he already knew exactly what the issue was.

Five hoped he hadn’t gulped that loud and said clearly, “I’m not really a gun person.”

Without pause, Rez snapped his fingers at Manson and pointed to the loan table at the other side of the room, and without a word, Manson obeyed, placing the weapon on its surface but with a resigned and rather annoyed expression on his face. Rez hardly noticed it or, at least, he pretended not to. “That better, sweetheart? We won’t use it on you obviously.” Rez quickly flashed him a dazzling grin and added, “Not unless you want us to.” Five only blushed at the pet name and the strong innuendo and nodded once. “I hope you don’t mind, and of course this has fuck all to do with you, but these are… delicate times which call for… delicate situations. You understand. My colleagues arm themselves when the situation demands it and, well, after the countless attempts on my life, I suppose,” here he looked to Manson and the two exchanged soft laughter in between, “the situation demands it. Stand up straight. Arms up.”

Five complied though his heart pounded and waited for the hands to search him. “Gotta make sure you’re not wearing a wire as well,” Manson growled under his breath and began to pat him down thoroughly. His breath was hot against Five’s neck, and the latter held his own when the wild-looking man dropped to his knees to pat and rub his thighs, his calves, just lightly brushing over his ass, and for a moment, Five thought he would cop a feel. He didn’t, but when he rose slowly, offering him a cold, leering smirk, he knew he would have under much different circumstances. Five trembled for the umpteenth time and this time in arousal. When he looked to the dangerous man sitting in the chair across from him, one leg propped against the knee of the other, thumb brushing over his lower lip as if deep in thought, his eyes were blazing, also in arousal.

“Have a seat.” A friendly order, but Rez would not try to be friendly for long. Business was his pleasure, and pleasure was the business this time. Manson approached, offered him a drink, which he took without a word and downed in one go, casting the glass to the side carelessly. It shattered like nothing, and Five flinched at the grating sound. When he resumed focus on Rez, the man was more focused on him than ever, leaning forward in his seat, the most amused expression on his face. “You look nervous.” He looked hawkish, his prominently large nose and sharp cupid’s bow making him even more so, and Five felt like a timid bunny hopping through the dark forest of those eyes. He said nothing.

“Are you scared?”

Rez’s demeanor this time was intense. When Five shook his head no, he barked out a laugh. “Lying will get you punished around here if you’re into that.” Then he sobered and said, “I promise my men won’t hurt you. Not unless you want them to, of course.” That smirk was back as he leaned casually into his chair. “And from the looks of your little resume, it looks like you just might.”

Five felt the heat rush to his cheeks, and he thanked the dim light in the room for hiding his red face.

“Take off your shirt.”

He obeyed without protest, pulling the mesh shirt over his head and keeping it bunched in his lap. He doubted Rez would be pleased if he simply threw it anywhere in the room. Rez nodded to Manson once, and the latter grabbed his shirt to keep with his coat. Five could not mistake the silent gesture of bringing the shirt to his nose and breathing in deeply. This man was more than ready for tonight. As Five self-consciously hugged himself from the cool air, he felt the heat of Rez’s gaze eye him up and down, lingering at his chest and arms. There was something unsafe about the way his eyes raked over his body, ravenous, as if he couldn’t wait to remove everything else. Instead he settled with leaning back and folding his hands in his lap.

“I like your tattoos.” For a moment, Five thought his eyes would burn holes into his flesh. “I apologize if we’re stalling. Perhaps you’d like that drink now?”

Five shook his head firmly. “I would never drink on the job, and it doesn’t even matter because I don’t drink anyway.”

An amused smile broke across Rez’s face, and he relented. “You know, I respect that. Takes a lot of self-control. Sometimes I don’t have that. Now take off your shoes.” Five had no qualms to disobey; it was all becoming natural to do this for them by the minute. “Anyway, we’re waiting on another, who regrettably is running a little late.” Rez eyed the clock and casually glanced back at Five. Gazing back at him in anticipation, he watched the Boss’s gaze harden, watched those eyebrows raise expectantly as if he’d dare disrespect him. Five knew exactly what he wanted and gingerly removed his pants next, careful not to allow his fishnets to go with them.

Instantly his permanent blush deepened once he remembered he wasn’t wearing any underwear underneath. Five automatically moved his hands to cover himself, but the low “ah, ah” from Rez and the rebuking, dark expression as if he were disciplining a child made him slowly move them back to his sides. Rez let out a small, pleased grunt in return.

“Probably hurts like a bitch if it rubs the wrong way, huh?”

Five almost laughed but smiled at the dangerous man in front of him anyway. “Yeah… you could say that.”

The amusement in Rez’s eyes remained, and he chuckled lightly. “God, we’re going to have fun with you.” Heavy footsteps echoed down one of the long corridors, like thick, large boots clunking and scraping against the hardwood floor.

“I hope so,” Five replied softly, but Rez wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. Even Manson looked to the open doorway curiously, but Five saw how his hands twitched as he stood beside him, like he couldn’t wait to get his mitts on him, mark him up in any way he wanted. Five shuddered yet waited with them.

“’Bout damn time,” Rez remarked disinterestedly at the young man, dressed as finely as they were, who boldly yet casually strode through the yawning archway, looking like he owned the place. Five couldn’t help but stare. Despite how short he was, perhaps a few inches taller than him, he carried himself with ease, running a capable-looking hand gracefully through his light blonde hair that flopped over in a messy sort of mohawk. Against the doorframe, he cocked a hip, brought out a lighter and a cig, and blue eyes closely observed as the flame and eventual smoke came to life. With a snap of the lighter closing, the man took a long drag as if he hadn’t had a smoke in a long, long time, cheeks hollowing (John wondered if that was how he looked sucking cock), and then he pulled the cigarette away with two fingers in a flourish.

“Hope you didn’t start without me.”

Five softly sucked in a breath. There was a voice he could get lost in, smooth and syrupy like a siren. Carefree.

Then he walked towards him, and Rez indicated him with a wave of his hand. “Five meet my colleague, Sköld. Sköld? This pretty little thing is Five. He’ll be entertaining us tonight. Well, entertaining the both of you.” At that last sentence, Manson snorted rudely, and Five shot his head up in confusion, glancing from Manson to Rez to Sköld, who approached him calmly and took another deep drag.

“Five, huh?” Sköld’s lidded eyes watched him above a smug nose and imposing, proud lips that curled in a distinguishable smirk. “Any significance? No, no, no. Don’t get up, babydoll. Makes me look taller.” A grin formed from that smirk, and Five felt his thumb brushing over his lower lip, ever so softly, gently, the first and possibly last bit of tenderness any of them would offer him for the rest of the night. He expected as much. Parting his lips to let him in a little more, Five’s guts churned and swelled at the satisfied grunt from above him, the heat forming there and settling. He certainly liked that and let him know immediately.

“He’s a pretty one, Rez.” Sköld withdrew his hand just then and gave him one order. “Open your mouth.” Five obeyed docilely, and the former stood up straighter, brought the cigarette to his own lips, and then leaned down, blowing the smoke down his throat. Eyes watering, Five tried desperately not to cough, didn’t want to disrupt anything, just wanted to be perfect for him. Sköld, at least, seemed a little calmer than the dark demon standing only a foot behind him, ready to devour him any second.

Said demon finally spoke up, voice like gravel, sweet like chocolate. “I want to start now.” He sounded gruff, impatient, and Five’s heart gave a few quick, heavy thuds that only began to escalate when he watched Rez shrug in his seat. A gloved hand made its way into his hair, tugging lightly, and Manson’s eyes glittered hungrily.

Rez’s voice broke through the thick silence, nonchalant, cool and calm and calculating. “Go ahead.”

With two fingers, Manson raised Five’s head by the chin to face him and growled the same order Sköld had only a few minutes ago. “Open your mouth.” Five did so, a soft yelp from the back of his throat escaping his lips when he gave a good, sharp tug on his wavy blonde hair. Manson’s tongue came next, laving up from his lower lip to his top lip slowly and stopping to explore the inside of his mouth. He groaned when Five gasped, gripped his jaw when he felt him twitch, and all the while, Five reeled, knowing it was happening; these men were going to do whatever they wanted with him.

“If he keeps making cute noises like that,” Sköld puffed smoke, “then I might just put this out on him to hear more.” Five stiffened at that, but he couldn’t connect if it was from discomfort or heightened arousal. His cock already began to strain against his fishnet tights, and he let out a pained hiss as the flimsy fabric dug into his skin. The sound excited Manson further, who already started to mouth at his neck, while murmuring unintelligible yet obscene things in his ear.

Five heard Rez’s voice next. “You do that, and I’ll bury you.” It came out like a menacing growl, hardly unexpected, but he still trembled when he heard it. “No permanent marks. Understood?”

Sköld decided not to answer him. Just stared at Five and smoked, stared and smoked. His eyes were piercing, taunting, teasing, and Five found he really couldn’t look away even with Manson determined to mark him up with teeth and tongue. Not that he wasn’t distracting enough. If all he wanted was to continue sucking on his neck and arm with an almost vampiric curiosity and hunger, Five would let him, knowing he’d be paid well. And it _was_ hot nonetheless. The way he glared up at him while his black painted lips practically hung off the soft skin of his forearm made Five wonder in vain what he would do to him next.

He pulled away and turned to Rez, rubbing his spit and remnants of his lipstick into his flesh with his thumb in an almost tender way. “You certain you don’t want to join in, boss?” Those wild, glittering eyes were lidded when they stared back at him ravenously. “He tastes delicious. So _sweet_.” Five returned his gaze with a glazed look hidden over with lust, pure arousal, barely hearing the words that fell from Rez’s lips. Just barely.

“I prefer to watch.” Out of the corner of his eye, Five watched him take a long sip of his drink. He was hard. It was impossible to miss, and it made the corners of Five’s mouth turn up in a small smile. “Get that cock out for me.”

Five heard Sköld groan in the back of his throat, some hidden desire laced in his tone. He got to his knees in front of him before Manson could even do the honors of obeying their boss. Would have disappointed the latter, but he continued to suck on his neck and the pressure point at the dip in his shoulder without a word, only a deep moan. Sköld, on the other hand, had no problem pulling back the fishnet tights and bringing out Five’s hardened cock, thumbing over the head softly, testing him out. Five bit back an embarrassing moan, bit harder on his lower lip, enough to draw blood, and watched him closely with pleading eyes now. They had barely started, and already he was falling apart, unraveling for them, for their pleasure.

“I say he’s wanted to start for a while now.” The smirk played on Sköld’s face when he moved to the side to show Rez the work of their hands. “Babydoll’s practically begging if you ask me.” Slowly, with skillful hands, he’d begun to jack him off, putting on a little show in Rez’s view. Five shuddered at the pet name, at the long fingers stroking and rubbing him down effortlessly and watched his hips automatically gyrate in time to that fist wrapped around his dick. His short, stuttering breaths resonated throughout the expansive room, and Rez leaned forward intently at the sound. He looked ravenous.

“Well, then give the pretty thing what he wants.” He stopped, grinned somewhat maniacally, and added, “If you want to. Don’t be afraid to rough him up a bit. Make him beg a little.”

“Hold this.” Sköld took the cigarette out of his mouth and handed it to Manson, who took it into his own mouth eagerly. Five coughed at the plumes of smoke he deliberately blew in his face, eyes watering, but Manson thumbed a tear that had formed out of the irritation away and kissed his cheek.

“Not even the worst of it,” he promised.

During that time, Sköld had hastily discarded his jacket and started rolling up the sleeves of his collared shirt. Five stiffened at the hand that enclosed around his hard length once again and let out a soft whimper while he continued to stroke and caress him at a slow and even pace. Rez, hands folded in front of his face, kept that intense gaze. He could palm himself. Give himself some relief. Five knew how hard he was. But he did nothing. Only stared. Self-control.

When Five focused down at Sköld kneeling by his legs, the man glanced back at him with a more than certain expression on his face. He crooked one finger, and Five got the hint, bending forward a little to let him kiss him. The kiss was searing, Sköld’s tongue brushing over his bottom lip and demanding entrance. He explored every bit of his mouth, and when they finally broke away, Five was breathless, flushed, even more desperate than before. A tiny whimper escaped his lips, one that they all heard and smirked over. Sköld, still determined to hear more pretty sounds from their plaything, moved to the front and gently nudged Five’s thighs apart. Five felt even more exposed than before and stared curiously, anticipating his next move. He spoke first.

“Hold his arms for me,” came Sköld’s order to Manson. “He doesn’t get to touch yet, and I want to make this fun. See if we can make him come more than once. What do you say, babydoll?”

If Five wanted to answer, he couldn’t, much too far gone to form any coherent thought. Manson did as he was told and grabbed both of his wrists, holding them high above his head, and then Sköld slid his hands slowly up Five’s thighs, wrapped his fingers around the base of his dick, and sunk his mouth down without a word.

Something like “hah- ahhh…” erupted from Five’s lips, an embarrassing sound, but he couldn’t care less. He was right. Sköld sucked cock like he smoked cigs, and every inch he took made Five’s eyes roll back slightly, eyelids fluttering. They got him worked up too well, and Sköld would get his wish; they would see just how many times they could get him to come until he was a screaming mess, begging them to stop. Whether or not they would was the question. Five mentally shrugged to himself as he struggled to hold back as many noises as he could. It would just cost them extra.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Rez warned, bringing Five back to the present. “Don’t hold anything back. I want to hear you.”

As much as he wanted to disobey and stay as silent as he could, Sköld hollowed his cheeks and swallowed, emitting a loud keen from Five much to his dismay. Manson chuckled above him, obviously pleased, and with one hand gripping his wrists, the other snuck down to touch him, caressing his chest, rubbing his tummy, searingly sweet gestures that contrasted the obscene wet noises Sköld made with his mouth. Five thought he would explode right then and there, but he forced himself to hold back no matter how skillful Sköld was with his tongue or Manson was with his hands.

Before he realized what he was saying however, Five heard himself whine, “’M close… gonna come…”

“Fuck yes,” he heard Manson murmur breathily above him, the strong grip on his wrists tightening.

Sköld, however, pulled back, lips wet with spit and pre-cum, and looked at him in reprimand. “What do you say?”

It definitely was not that hard to figure these men out. All of them needed their egos stroked apparently. “Please,” Five whimpered. “Please let me come, sir.”

“So pliant,” Rez remarked from the background. His expression screamed infatuation; he was drawn to the scene, drawn to Five and every little shudder he gave, every little pleasured whine that fell from his mouth.

“Christ, I think I could come just from that alone,” Sköld groaned and went back down immediately, ushering a sharp cry and a few wordless, desperate pleas from Five. In seconds, he came before he could stop himself, and Sköld’s arms tightened around his thighs, encircling over his hips to hold him down while he swallowed every drop. If Five tried to move, tried to buck up his groin in his face, Sköld tightened his arms around him even more, like a boa constrictor determined to squeeze every last bit out of him. Bleary-eyed, Five looked to Rez, who now, finally, decided to slide a hand down his pants and rub himself lazily.

“I want to see him come again.” That was an order.

Before Five could ask for just five seconds to recover, Sköld’s hands grasped his thighs and pulled him forward, ass slightly up, in plain view for everyone to gawk at, and Five found himself awkwardly on his back with Sköld looping fingers in his fishnets. Without a word or warning, he ripped them open, groaning long and low at the wonderfully obscene display before him. Five’s breath hitched in his throat when he heard the tear and his hands became fists above him, mouth turning in a sort of playful smirk.

“That’ll cost you extra,” he said, still winded from his orgasm. That sentence abruptly ended in a squeak when something wet slid down his crack soon after. Took him a brief moment to realize Sköld had spit at his entrance and now rubbed it in somewhat soothingly with his thumb. Manson answered for him.

“That won’t be a problem.” He sounded smug and let go of Five’s hands instantly. Five had no doubt that this was a reason that could only be in Manson’s favor. When he saw him reach down into his pants and pull out his rock hard cock, Five found that he assumed correctly as he wrapped one hand around it. He eventually realized it was difficult to multitask with a fingertip circling his hole ever so slowly. Only Manson’s voice seemed to bring him back to the task at hand. “Get me nice and hard, kitten.” His tone sounded thick with arousal, hot and dangerous. “I’ll be fucking you first.” To Sköld he said, “Stretch him out real good for me. Good thing you sucked him off first, worked him up. I don’t eat another man’s spunk.”

Sköld only sneered and eyed Five demandingly. Pushing three fingers past his lips, he said one word in a low voice. “Suck.”

Five gulped and choked once he abruptly shoved them in and attempted to tighten his lips around them. Sköld seemed to like that, the low growl under his breath telling him so. Five returned it with a sweet, muffled noise of his own until he pulled his fingers away with a wet pop, stringing strands of spit along with them. Patting the back of his thigh in a sort of sweetly condescending way with his other hand, Sköld smiled up at him not so sweetly.

“Good boy.”

Two fingers entered him, slick with his own saliva but not without a little burn. He was used to it, having prepped before he got there obviously but grimaced all the same, knowing they would like that. He was right of course. Manson’s fingers were in his hair again, giving it a good yank and growling long and low when Five sped up his hand on his cock. Sköld’s two fingers became three, and Five’s tattooed chest rose and fell steadily, a pretty sight for Rez, who sucked in a breath, marveling at the slow gyrations Five made with his hips. When those fingers slightly curled inside him, hitting the right spot, Five’s whole body nearly rose off the seat to meet them, and a high moan fell from his wet lips.

“Jesus, I could come just like this,” he heard Manson groan above him. “Stop.” Five lowered his hand obediently and instead reached behind over his head with both hands to grip the seat as Sköld continued with no intentions to stop what he was doing right now. Two fingers made him glance up however, and Manson leered down at him, obviously amused with the spectacle of him fucking himself on the mobster’s fingers. “Bring any lube, angel?”

Flustered, Five nodded his head and managed, “It’s… it’s in my coat.” The last word ended in a squeal. Sköld introduced his tongue with his fingers and laved around his rim teasingly, something he seemed to enjoy doing to him. This would make him come again, most definitely, and he knew he could not hold back even if he tried. Not that he wanted to. The little sparks deep in his gut made his vision go fuzzy, and euphoria almost broke out over his face in the form of a blissful smile.

“Not to worry, sweetheart.” He hadn’t noticed Rez getting up from his chair and approaching them with the bottle in hand. Slamming it into Manson’s chest, he growled, “Don’t _ever_ make me get up from my seat again” and walked away without a word. It was warning enough, and Manson uttered a “sorry, boss” before clicking open the cap.

“Get him on his hands and knees.”

“Make sure I can see him while you fucking spit-roast him,” Rez demanded, remnants of annoyance still edged in his voice.

“Not yet,” Sköld said breathily, pulling back, lips slick with spit, and the movements in his fingers and arm speeding up. “I think he’s going to come again.”

Five heard Manson mutter a curse, barely saw Rez lean forward, and then Sköld’s fingers slammed in and curled more harshly than before, enough to send him over the edge for a second time. He felt spent already, and the sharp discomfort came even faster than the last time, making him twitch and whimper at the overstimulation. The devious smirk on Sköld’s face told him he knew exactly what he was doing and that he would only keep going until his boss told him to stop.

“All right, enough,” Rez finally ordered carelessly, though his voice was laced with arousal. “Give Manson a turn.”

Five could hardly think if he had gotten down on his hands and knees of his own free will or if it was the men who did it for him. His temples still throbbed, body still vibrating from his high, and he glanced warily at Manson over his shoulder, who lazily began rubbing his cock and eyeing him through lidded, lust-filled eyes. Glancing between both men stroking themselves at either end, he finally settled on Rez.

“He needs to wear a condom.”

The tips of Rez’s lips curled, and he nodded at Manson. “You heard him. Do what he says.”

“Already done,” Manson assured him as he pulled one out of his coat pocket and ripped the packaging open with his teeth. Five gulped and turned away only to come face to face with Sköld who stood bent at the waist in front of him, cock half-hard and in his fist.

“Care to return the favor?” he lilted down at him, stroking the head right in his face.

Five opened his mouth automatically only jolting forward as soon as the thick head of Manson’s cock began to push through. Despite having felt him in his hand, he forgot just how big the man actually was until he felt the first searing stretch threatening to rip him open. A sweet, pained sound escaped his already open mouth, enough for Sköld to grip his chin, slide his thumb along his lower lip before pushing in. Five’s lips closed around it in response, his eyelids fluttering shut as Manson moved in another inch.

Sköld gave a short, satisfied grunt. “I want you to suck my cock just like that.” The hand in his hair felt condescendingly tender until Five was forced to look up while the former wrenched his thumb from his mouth. “Softly and sweetly. I want you to fucking worship my cock.”

Five would have responded, would have nodded his head, anything if it hadn’t been for the sharp, deep thrust Manson gave him as he plunged inside, all the way. For a moment, he didn’t think he could breathe, and a trembled curse fell from his tongue, a mixture of a moan and a plea, a plea for him to just fucking move already _please_. Sköld watched him with an unreadable expression, heard every hitch of breath, studied the way his muscles spasmed and jerked at having not been given enough time to get through his last orgasm. It was entertaining to say the least. He could probably come just looking into those pretty doe eyes.

“Sensitive, huh?”

Five only whined through closed lips, those whines rising in pitch when Manson finally began to set a rough pace. He rutted into him like a wild animal, and it made it near impossible to stay still for Sköld, who finally grabbed his face with both hands and aligned his length with his mouth. Five choked as soon as he felt it hit the back of his throat and instantly fought to hold back his gag reflex. His eyes watered, smearing eyeliner, and Sköld pulled back only to get a good look at what he had created.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful, babydoll,” he groaned. “Just like this.” He pushed back in, and Five steeled himself as best he could.

It didn’t take long for Sköld to come, and he hardly gave any warning aside from the ragged, heavy groan that came with every hot spurt down Five’s throat. He swallowed it dutifully and showed him, opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue. It seemed a little daring to work him up again, but Sköld merely sighed and offered him a light couple of taps to his cheek that made him flinch with each hit.

“Give it a kiss. I told you to fucking worship it.”

Five did so, leaned forward and pressed his lips to the head, his musky scent flooding his nose. He felt Manson still behind him, felt all eyes on him as his mouth didn’t stop there but instead laid wet kisses up and down his shaft.

Rez’s voice sounded even more amused and aroused than before. “What an obedient thing you are.”

Five almost sank into the praise until Manson started up again, hands gripping his hips, cock fucking into him as wildly as before. “Turn him to face me,” Rez demanded. “I want to see his pretty face when he comes again.” Manson moved him about like it was nothing; Five couldn’t deny that he enjoyed being manhandled like this with barely any control over his limbs and the rest of his body. Already his nerve endings buzzed with pleasure every time the wild-looking man hovering over him and rutting into him like a beast managed to hit that same spot that Sköld found with just his fingers alone. With a loud cry, Five’s upper half fell forward as though his strength had left him, the side of his face pressed into the carpet and rubbing up and down with every thrust Manson gave him. It wasn’t exactly the friction he needed, but he figured he’d come untouched if things continued this way.

Rez clicked his tongue. “That’s not what I paid you for,” he shook his head and then nodded to Manson. “Hold him up for me, will you? I said I wanted to see his face when he comes.”

One hand in his hair yanked him back and he yelped at the intrusive gesture, but the warm, soft material of Manson’s vest and jacket made him sink into the touch, almost as if he were enveloped in darkness. Manson’s arm wrapped around his waist, hand holding him back, and his thrusts became more quick, unfocused, erratic. His other hand encircled over his throat, not hard enough to crush his windpipe but enough to keep his head up, keep his eyes on his boss for the night, the one who would pay most handsomely when this was all over. For a fleeting moment of hazy fog, Five questioned if he even wanted it to be over. Manson’s hands all over him were possessive, his moans soft against Five’s sharp keens. Sensory overload. He was certain he would pass out.

Five heard someone scream euphorically and wasn’t sure if it had been him or Manson, but he felt the warm cum running down his chest and stomach, felt the strong grip on him tighten, Manson’s body stiffen behind him with a low, ragged moan, and he knew. On Rez’s orders, Sköld approached him with a towel and wiped up the mess, and then Manson pulled out, threw away the condom, and tucked himself back into his pants without a word.

The tension in the air still remained, and the only sound Five heard was his heavy breaths resonating throughout the spacious room. He felt exposed and shivered, huddled on his knees and hugging himself. If he made himself look small enough for them, the rewards would be higher than he thought possible.

Rez’s eyes pierced into his flesh with a smile that seemed to harden. “We’re not done yet, sweetheart.”

He probably sounded fucking idiotic when he heard himself inquire, “We’re not?”

Rez merely shrugged. “Changed my mind. I haven’t laid a single finger on you yet.” He crooked his finger, making a ‘come hither’ motion with it, and Five complied, getting himself into a crawl that made every man in the room long for a second taste of him. “Fuck, you don’t even need me to tell you, do you?” Rez practically moaned. “Perfect whore. Up.”

Five obeyed a little wobbly, legs like jelly. The mobster snapped his fingers and pointed to his lap, and he sank down, straddling him. The kiss he was given was sweet and passionate, but he jerked away at the discomforting pain that came from Rez slowly starting to stroke his sore cock. His grip tightened on him, holding him securely in place, and when he broke away, Five watched his hard expression feign concern behind devious eyes.

“Too much?” he asked gently, but the smile was taunting.

Five nodded, eyes squeezed shut when he only continued. “Hurts…” he whimpered. He swore he felt the man get harder.

“Aw… Baby.” Rez gave his dick a harsh squeeze, relished the sharp gasp and soft cry he received in return, and simpered, “You can do it. You came three times already. One for you. One each for those two.” He indicated Sköld and Manson, who watched them like hawks, buzzards waiting for scraps. Loosening his hold on his cock, Rez looked Five in the eye and watched his face contort as he slid one finger up his shaft. “And now, one for me.” The pout he gave him seemed to tease him as he added a little softer, “Don’t you want to come for me too?”

Five shifted restlessly and finally nodded wordlessly when he kept doing that with his finger. It was incessant, and he knew by the pleased smirk he received that Rez was determined to milk every last drop from him until he shot blanks in tears.

“Relax, honey,” Rez said soothingly. His lips found his own and moved from there down his jaw and the side of his neck sensually. “I know just how to pull it out of you.”

That mouth was soft, the tongue warm and wet laving up his throat and drawing out a shameless moan from Five’s lips. Teeth bit down into the pressure point between his neck and his shoulder, and he felt his cock twitch. Rez felt it too and smiled into his neck, a sort of triumphant noise coming out of him. Teeth found his collarbone as well, and Five let out a soft, little “ah!” that made the man’s nails dig into his hip, certain to break skin. He found he already began gyrating in his lap, fucking up into his fist while Rez’s mouth continued to pleasure him. Soft lips made their way down his chest, enveloping a nipple and moving to the other one. Rez relished the whiny moans above and bit down into sensitive flesh that forced Five to fall against his shoulder, mindlessly rubbing his groin against his clothed length. Both his brazen moans and Rez’s sweet nothings were the only things heard until Rez stiffened beneath him and began speeding up his hand on his cock.

“Oh fuck, that’s it,” Rez growled, voice raw and spent, and Five’s sob-like, broken moan agreed. Ropes of hot seed spilled over his hand, some hitting his suit, the rest landing on Five’s chest, glistening with sweat. “Give me all of it.”

Five’s mouth hung open, barely any sound coming out. Rez’s hands refused to stop, one massaging his balls and the other polishing his head mercilessly, greedy for the last few drops that came with it. Five thrashed against him, but he held fast, mouth open in awe at the beautifully obscene sight of the lovely creature struggling in his lap. He finally yielded after what felt like hours of pleasurable torment, and Five nearly fell back if it wasn’t for the arm wrapped around his waist holding him close.

“Beautiful,” Rez murmured, reaching up to stroke his cheek with his clean hand and then raising the other to Five’s mouth. “Clean me up.” An order, not a request.

In his high, Five gave him a show with his tongue, lapping up his spunk from Rez’s fingers, enveloping them in his mouth, and moaning delightfully at the taste. Rez cursed softly below him, satisfied, and removed his hand, proceeding to wipe it on Five’s thigh. With a quick kiss to his temple, his hot breath fell over Five’s ear, making him tremble, and he whispered, “Thank you, sweetheart.” To the others, he laughed, “I think he needs a minute.” Five reddened, cause for Rez’s smirk to remain, and he shakily got up from his lap.

Before he could fret about being exposed for too long, someone wrapped a blanket around him, and he glanced up at the giant of a man with a beard dressed like a bouncer, blinking once. Rez spoke for him.

“Four,” he said, sounding pleased, “right on time as always. Five meet Four. Four meet Five. Perfect right? Although, I’m sure you didn’t get your little nickname based on how many people you whacked, sweetheart.” If Five continued to stare, he worried he’d be “whacked” himself. Rez snapped his fingers, and Four’s large paws rested on Five’s slim shoulders. “Show this kitten where he can soak, and then he can leave.”

“Boss,” the man known as Four acknowledged with a short nod. Before he knew it, Five found himself encompassed in unfamiliar arms as he carried him away. His heart thumped once.

The bathwater was hot and steamy when he finally sank in, and Five let out a husky, content sigh. His eyes nearly rolled back at the pleasantly warm sensation of the water lapping at his body. When he opened his eyes, Four stood by the door, hands folded in front, the picture of resolute patience. The expression on his face was unreadable, but Five had noticed a calm warmth in those eyes when he first looked at him. Not to mention the way they wandered his way in the tub, all wet and naked… and wet and… naked. When their eyes met, Four quickly averted his gaze and stared ahead. Five almost giggled and turned to glance at the wad of cash wrapped in an envelope nestled in with his things. Five grand. He was given equal to what he gave, but that didn’t necessarily mean he couldn’t have fun with this one.

“Hey.”

When Four turned to him, fully acknowledging him, there was that warmth again.

“Your gun.”

“What about it.” Sounded more like a statement than a question. No need to be so serious.

Five smiled lightly. “Do you mind putting it where I can see it? Guns make me uncomfortable.”

The innocent request alone seemed to catch him off guard, but Four remained firm when he said, “Afraid not. I’m Boss’s security. If I’m not prepared, it’s on me.”

Five pouted at that, but he couldn’t help the soft laugh that came out at Four’s expense. “Do I look dangerous to you?” he teased.

Four decided not to look at him when he replied blankly, “Honestly, you look like you couldn’t swat a gnat.”

Five let out a wounded noise but bit his lip, trying to hide his smile. This time he changed the subject and not to one that would make Four more comfortable. “So were you disappointed your boss didn’t let you join?” He watched the man start, and it became even harder to keep a neutral expression on his face.

“Nope.”

Five watched the muscles in his jaw tense and shifted his position in the tub so that he was closer to him, arms resting on the rim. Four still did not relax, and it became apparent that he was the one getting him all worked up. “Really?” Five dragged the word out, enjoying the pained look in Four’s eyes. “Rez was generous enough to give me five thousand. In cash. Means I’m that good.”

“You couldn’t handle me.”

Five laughed that same light, musical laugh. “What exactly does that mean?”

This time, Four turned his head and his eyes were twinkling, amused. “Means exactly what it means.”

Biting his lip, Five blushed and sank a little deeper in the water. “Okay. How big?”

“Rez would kill me if he found out I was talking to you like this,” Four sighed, desperate to change the subject. “He doesn’t like others messing with his playthings, especially playthings he’s bought and paid for.”

“Excuse me, this was a one time thing, meaning one night, meaning your boss does _not_ own me,” Five retorted, voice hard, the laughter in his eyes gone. Softer, he said, “Relax. I won’t tell.”

Four looked incredibly nervous as he watched the beautiful creature in the tub float back and crook his finger at him. “But Rez…”

“Will never know.”

It took a whole minute for Four to weigh his options. He could trust Five; he _was_ tempted. The man was beautiful, soft, _small_ , easily handled, but Four wanted to worship him, not just use him. On the other hand, Rez might find out, and he’d get even. Not just angry. Even. The kind of even that would hack parts off of him. Parts he cherished and would like to remain on his person. Parts that Rez would shove down his throat if he so much as laid a finger on Five. But, just like he said, Rez did not own Five, and when all this was over, he thought as he strode towards him, he drive him back, drop him off, jack off later, and that would be the end of it.

Yes, Four thought, watching Five’s wet, small, dainty hands unzip his pants, that would be the end of that.


	14. Black Widow of La Porte Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess who got caught.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me you all caught The Lost Highway and Constantine references. It was fun portraying Rez sort of like Mr. Eddie and the devil combined. 
> 
> I finally finished this and yet I still want to add more to the story. Perhaps I will. Sorry in advance for the cliffhanger. Anyway, hope you enjoy! If you don't like gun kink, then this is probably not for you. Hey, they're mobsters. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

It most definitely wasn’t the end of that, Four found regrettably. Chewing on his fingernails absentmindedly, he glanced across from him in the car at Five sitting daintily, sitting pretty, but blindfolded. It was required, of course. Rez never liked anyone knowing their location, but Four guessed that this was just another tactic, a power move to make him seem more threatening. As if disemboweling an interloper and snitch strapped to a chair in their basement wasn’t threatening enough. Five merely sat still with his hands folded in front of him while Four watched.

“Another job?” As always, Five’s voice remained as soft as ever, lilting and cooing even in such a casual setting. Four stared at him head on this time, caught the remnants of a smile on his face.

“Mm.”

“Think he’ll let you this time?”

Four’s eyes narrowed. While he decided not to answer, Five decided to pester, and the former knew he would succeed in getting any sort of reaction out of him regardless. “People talk you know. Perhaps he knows.”

Four snorted. “If he did, I don’t think I would be the one escorting you back.” He heard a chuckle.

“He’s that jealous, huh?” Five inquired, the smile still evident.

“More than jealous.” Four sat back and slumped in his seat. “You’re his favorite.”

  
  


Things were much different than the last time. Five noticed that as soon as the grim-looking guard shut the door behind him. The slam should not have made him jump as much as it did, and he chastised himself silently for nearly giving himself away. Four stayed behind him, removed his coat, and Five felt the tender brush of his thumb against his shoulder before he handed it to the guard. He almost leaned into it- if it wasn’t for the even scarier-looking individual directly behind the both of them, but instead strutted ahead, the heavy thud of his boots clunking down the expansive hallway.

A few doors flew by, some open, some open ajar, others completely shut and those were the ones that made his stomach turn. Muffled pleas and curses came from one with another lower voice calmly speaking over them, and Five found himself walking a little faster much to his dismay.

It was no question that the mood had drastically changed since his last visit. This time was unexpected yet from an expectant source, and Rez seemed like the type of man that would make Five regret it dearly if he so much as displeased him. Of course, the message was received the last time when he mercilessly made him come not once, not twice, but _four_ times, one for each man, himself included. Five had thoroughly enjoyed himself and he still had the five grand to prove it, but in the back of his mind he understood that Rez was not just some trick. He would get what he wanted, when he wanted it, how he wanted it, and with whomever he so desired. Five reminded himself of that reality again and again until they finally reached the entrance.

“Hey there, babydoll.”

Both doors slammed shut behind him, and he mentally kicked himself for jumping at the sound. Sköld grinned to himself, and Manson’s eyes narrowed over the rim of his glass. Already tensions were high, thick and hanging in the dim atmosphere, more shuddering than a quivered, anxious sigh. Everyone saw his reaction, and Five could not keep the deep blush from appearing; he felt like a mouse and _most_ of the lions stared him down licking their chops and growling menacingly amongst themselves.

Hesitantly, he took one look about the room, sucked in a soft breath, let it out evenly, and gracefully settled himself down into one of the large, plush chairs. One leg went over the other, both arms draped elegantly over the armrests, and he leaned back, putting on a brave face or perhaps the most daring face he could make, a face that could lie and tell them he wasn’t scared of any of them. But these men weren’t dumb, and the cool, calculating smirk on Sköld’s face as well as the cruel curve of Manson’s lips told him they saw right through him. Turning his head away from the eyes, Five gave great attention and focus to his fingernails instead and struck up the courage to ask the probing question on both his and Four’s mind.

“Where’s Rez?”

Click went the shattering sound of the gun’s safety, and Five just barely had any time to register that Manson was currently loading bullets into his weapon. One last snap, and he stuffed it behind him, eyeing Five with a rather nasty-looking expression on his face. Five kept his face even, though everyone saw the way the muscles in his neck tensed at the sound. Sköld’s expression remained so as well as his gaze followed Five’s every movement, every fidget, every twitch. He studied him relentlessly, and Five had to swallow down the question that threatened to erupt in frustration of why he couldn’t just fucking look at something else.

“Just finishing up a little business,” Sköld stated evenly. “He’ll be here.” Sounded more like a warning than just a casual statement.

The mood had certainly shifted since last time. For better or worse, Five hardly comprehended, but he stayed where he was, ready to usher in the droning task of small talk if necessary. Manson beat him to the punch.

“Think Rez will mind if I steal a kiss?” he murmured, and the gravel in his voice rumbled.

“Not if you want your balls in a jar.”

“Five…” Four said it deliberately, warning edged in his voice. He remained in position at the opposite end of the room but visibly witnessed Manson twitch at the sudden spite in his voice.

To Sköld, with a thin, dangerously calm smile, he asked, deadpanning, “What did he just say to me?” The receiver merely raised his hands defensively with a soft chuckle that only managed to stoke the seething embers. Manson’s three thudding steps were enough for Five to feel his hot breath on his skin. “What did you say to me?”

With his breath caught in his throat, Five only just barely managed to stare back at Manson with a hard gaze and stood up, attempting to reach his full height and girth. Reluctantly, he realized he was caught in a dilemma. Here was Manson, a henchman of the mob with vile intentions and a violent, sexual appetite, staring down at him with an expression that looked like he wanted to snap his neck and dump his body in a dark place that no one will ever find. That should disgust him, Five reminded himself, however, the more he looked, the more he felt himself get _hot_. He remembered the fresh sting of his cock in his ass and the cruel words he had lilted filthily in his ear when he had rutted into him ragged and raw. There was nothing stopping him from doing so again, Five realized, and he wondered just how much longer he could fuck with him before he would do just that.

Blinking up once and innocently too with a simpering pout on his pretty face, Five’s eyes glittered as he said simply, “Didn’t catch it?”

Everything about Manson stopped in their tracks, and he just stared, body taut, straight, and towering over Five’s small frame, looking as if smoke could burst from his ears. His nostrils flared instead, but his gaze pierced through Five’s flesh like burning hot coals, a heat he very nearly felt. Then Manson bent at the waist, a position like that of reprimanding a child but in the most damning of ways, and Five felt his warm breath on his neck as he spoke, voice lowered to that of a rumbling growl.

“You wanna say that to me again?”

The overtones of thunder in his voice almost brought Five to his knees; he felt himself get nervous again much to his increasing excitement and dismay that he never heard himself say what could have been the nail to his coffin if Four hadn’t intervened.

“Which part?” Five whispered, lips just centimeters apart from Manson’s grit teeth, only quivering slightly at the prospect of what he could do to him and ultimately begging for it with his body alone.

“Back the fuck up, Manson, or Rez will have your ass.” Four’s warning seemed to go over both of their heads. Five jumped at the distinct sound of his voice, but Manson looked as though he hadn’t heard a thing, the fire in his eyes remaining on Five, shooting daggers into his skull for a good five seconds that seemed more like five hours to him. When he gripped his jaw, the tension in the room grew, and the delicate string snapped, quick enough without Rez and for both Sköld and Four to rest their hands on their weapons.

Manson squeezed and continued to squeeze so much that Five’s jaw began to ache as though the man attempted to unhinge it himself, but instead of committing such an atrocity, he smiled, not a very nice smile.

“You’re cute,” he droned. With a careless snap and flick of his wrist, Manson released him, causing Five to stumble back just a bit, head reeling and hand gingerly nursing at his mouth. “But you’re cuter with your mouth stuffed full of cock.”

Five was thankful that none of the men could see the small twitch of his own cock.

Instead they all turned in the direction of the sound of honey and vinegar coming from the opposite end of the chamber. Rez, though short and lean, stood proud and imposing and menacing, a stance none of them could object to. The forest of green that was his eyes darkened while he casually removed the white latex gloves from his hands, ones that were prominently drenched in dark crimson blood. Five practically blanched at the sight of it, especially when one drop fell and landed on the hardwood floor below. He remembered suddenly then the muffled screams behind the door and felt his stomach drop deep into the pits of his gut.

Regrettably, Rez’s jacket had more blood on it than the gloves to which he removed it fluidly and handed it to the heavyweight behind him. “Clean this,” he ordered. “Thoroughly.”

“Sköld!” This time the authoritative tone in his voice rose, and Sköld instantly snapped to attention. “Pull up a chair.”

He obeyed without a word and the heavy clunk of the chair against the plush carpet over the floor caused Five to jolt. Rez’s voice was not enough to quell his anxieties (or the twitch of his clothed cock), however; rather, it only made him tense further, anticipating the moment of self-control gone, lost, out of sight out of mind. _Sometimes I don’t have that._ Rez’s words from last time flooded back and taunted Five. They reminded him of the dangers of sucking off the entire mob. Literally.

“Manson.” This time, the vinegar in Rez’s voice left entirely. He sounded serene, at ease, much too friendly than his normal tone, and it seemed as though the entire room held its breath, waiting for the hammer to drop. “Have a seat.” He indicated the chair and waited, voice still far too friendly to even be considered normal but eyes piercing over at his henchman, daring him to object.

Manson’s first words were his first mistake. “Boss, I-”

“ _Sit. Down._ ”

Manson’s painted lips opened and closed like a fish, and he started to look less and less like a demon the more he prolonged Rez’s delicate patience, Five observed. Rez only had to raise an eyebrow, and Manson visibly withered and wilted before them all, defeated. He complied and slowly sank down onto the plush cushions, easing his back into it as though they were made of sharp rocks and not soft velvet. Then he wet his lips and opened his mouth to speak, his second mistake.

“I was only-”

“I advise you not to say another word,” Rez growled, physically paying him no mind as he began unbuttoning and removing the sleek vest from his shoulders and then working at loosening his tie. As he rolled up his sleeves, his attention moved to Five and a cunning smirk formed on his harsh yet handsome face. “Hello, kitten.” Five had no time to react to the sudden kiss Rez stole as he pulled him close to his body. He smelled aftershave, soap, but something more gamey underneath the fresh, clean odors. His tongue tasted like honey, though, sweet and syrupy as it curled inside of his mouth, and Five steeled himself for the teeth that dragged down his lower lip. The gasp he tried to swallow down instead burst out of his throat, hitched and sharp at the handful of ass Rez managed to grab. He gave a rough squeeze and then released him, leaving him dizzy. “I missed you.” It sounded almost animalistic when he rasped it in Five’s ear, and the latter had no choice but to look up when two fingers tenderly but firmly raised his chin.

Weak-kneed, Five offered a feeble smile.

“You look good,” Rez remarked, and that feigned friendliness in his voice had returned. “You doing all right?” Tucking a stray lock of blonde tendrils behind Five’s ear, he stared at him expectantly to which Five nodded once, forcing another small smile. “Good. That’s good. I’m glad to hear it. Truly.” Suddenly, Rez nodded over in Four’s direction, who stood firm by the door at the other end of the room, face blank, hands folded in front of him. “Enjoying your body guard?” Five felt his throat get tight from the word choice alone. Before he could even think to explain himself, Rez barked out a laugh and continued, “The escort for my escort. He got you here safely, I assume. Good. See, men like Four, under my orders, do their job diligently. He’s trained that way. Like a guard dog. Won’t shit on the rug, comes when I call him. He does what I tell him to do, on pain of death even. It’s hardwired into his system.”

Five very nearly sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of Rez brandishing his pistol.

“If I _ever_ figured out he was fucking you…” As casual as his voice sounded, Five heard the edge of a warning in it as Rez cradled his weapon thoughtfully, with care. Then he raised it, not to aim it at Five although the intention remained, and went on, the edge razor sharp this time, “I’d take this and shove it so far up his ass, I’d blow his fucking brains out.” The words sank in transparently, but it did not stop the audible gulp Five made.

Rez’s attention strayed from him, however and focused on Manson as he advanced on him. Everyone heard the distinct _click_. “You hear what I’m saying, fuckface?” Rez’s face instantly distorted into anger, and he dangerously waved the gun at the man in the chair. “You so much as _breathe_ on him without my permission, and _that’s_ when I start cutting things off.”

Manson said not a word during Rez’s berating of him, that berating being of a loaded gun pointed at his face. If he had, Five was more than certain that his boss would pull the trigger. Instead he kept his mouth in a thin, grim line, jaw tightening so much Five watched the muscles flex and pop, and his hands gripped the armrests of the chair so hard that his knuckles turned white. His silence must have enraged Rez more because he cocked the pistol and pressed it viciously against the side of his head. Eyes flaming, he wet his lips, voice resembling the crackling of fire.

“What? Now you have nothing to say? Do I need to fucking repeat myself?” Five supposed Manson’s silence was his final mistake. “I should fucking pistol whip you for the shit you pulled. But today is your lucky day, dipshit.” Indicating Five with a curt nod, Rez lowered himself down to his level, mouth close to his ear in the downturned expression of a snarl. “See, Five here is good, too good for the likes of you. So that’s why I’m doing you a little favor.” Perhaps it was the bewildered look Manson shot his way that made him chuckle long and low. “No, no, no, I want you to experience how good he is. Again. Because I am that fucking generous. Five!”

Five snapped to attention, offering Rez the most compliant, doe-eyed look he could give and waited.

“Take off your clothes.”

Then Rez snapped his finger sharply at Manson and growled, “And you, take your cock out.”

Manson’s dark eyes were on Five, but he wasn’t smiling; he merely stared, allowing his eyes to rake over his body as if he was the one peeling his clothes off of him one at a time. Five let him; it remained all he could do at the moment with Rez’s gun trained at his head aside from following the lewd order. “I’m not certain I can get fucking hard with a gun in my face,” he practically whined.

Rez’s mouth twitched once like he was about to laugh, but he sobered up quickly in a matter of milliseconds. “Do you doubt my employee’s services?” His voice dripped with venom. To Five, he commanded, “Suck him ‘til he likes it.”

Didn’t seem like that would take long.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Five immediately got to his knees in front of Manson, quietly eyed him up and down, and took ahold of his limp cock in his small fist. As soon as he took him into his mouth, a low, ragged groan erupted from the back of Manson’s throat, one that even pleased Five. Of course, he knew he was ‘good’ as Rez had so blatantly put it. Out of the corner of his eye with Manson’s cock throbbing and growing in his mouth, Five glanced at Sköld. The man sat back with ease, puffing smoke, a cigarette between his fingers, the absolute vision of sensuality and serenity in the face of violent tendencies. He watched them closely, and his eyes glazed over lustfully.

The hand pressing at the back of his head returned him back to focus on the task at hand. Just as quickly as he felt it, Rez smacked it away abruptly and pressed the pistol into the side of Manson’s head. “No touching,” he rasped. “You already took advantage of that.” Five heard the pathetic whimper in response and almost smiled around his member. Instead he hollowed his cheeks and closed his throat around the tip, determined to make him come much sooner. And by the desperate sounds Manson made already, his efforts seemed to work. So he bobbed his head a little faster, palmed his balls a little harder until the stuttered breaths began to sound more erratic.

“Enough.” Rez’s hand in his hair suddenly gave a sharp yank, pulling him up with a small pop and cutting off Manson’s pleasure short. Not too short, though, and apparently right on time, he realized as the small streams of spunk shot up from Manson’s cock and spilled out over his vest and shirt in what was probably the worst orgasm he ever had. Five watched his face screw up and distort in pain and frustration. Manson’s chest heaved, and his mouth fell open in a soundless, agonized cry for mercy. Rez caught the pitiful sideways glance up his way and everyone heard the chuckle.

“Painful, huh?” In a more dangerous voice, he droned, “Let that be a reminder if you ever pull something like this again. Next time… well. I will just leave ‘next time’ to your imagination. Now go stand in Four’s place. You only get to watch tonight.”

At the mention of his name, Four glanced up and decided to make his quick exit, or escape for that matter. His hands hanging loose at his sides, he turned towards the door and hopefully without a second glance Five’s way. Could not run the risk of Rez obtaining any inclination that they had been intimate whatsoever, Five chided himself as he watched his boss for the night ease himself down carelessly into the chair Manson had left and recline back lazily. His dread became realized just when Rez barked yet another order at the unassuming guard.

“Oh, no, no, no!” he laughed sardonically. “No, you stay right where you are. I have not even started with you yet.”

If Five had been looking his way, he would have seen Four’s face pale at those damning words. Whether or not Rez had something better or worse in mind for him, he stood still, stomach coiling in knots enough to make him sick. Five hadn’t been the only one who heard the screams. And with a small, knowing nod to Sköld from his boss, the former calmly put out his smoke, rose from his seat, sauntered towards Four, and fluidly removed his gun from behind him, aiming it right between his eyes. Any fear that may have flashed through them was quickly snuffed out by Four’s own controlled recognizance, and he stayed tall and straight and firm with only one blink Sköld’s way.

Five did say something this time and snapped his head from the spectacle behind him and back up into Rez’s devilishly handsome face. “I don’t think I can work with all the guns, Rez…” He hated the mouse-like quality of his voice just then, knowing it would do nothing to convince his boss to lower his guard even for a little bit. “You know how-”

At this, Rez’s countenance instantly softened, and he leaned down, caressing Five’s cheek with one hand. “Would ten grand change your mind, kitten?” His voice was as soft and smooth as butter.

Wondering just how much this was all for play, Five whimpered at the amount offered him and tried once more, the tone of his voice a little more broken than the last. “Please, don’t hurt him.”

Rez’s mouth twitched to a sneer, and he moved back in his seat in disinterest, crossing one leg over the other and maintaining the merciless expression on his face. “I won’t do anything I don’t have to,” he growled, voice daring him to test his patience further. Fingers drummed against the armrest, and Five saw his teeth grind together menacingly as though fire could surge from his mouth, reducing all to ashes in a matter of minutes. Instead Rez whistled sharply at Four and crooked a finger. Just like a dog. And just like a dog, Four approached immediately. If his tail was between his legs, no one could tell, except perhaps the one that held the whip.

Rez, his patience wearing thin over the silence and Five quivering in his lap, suddenly cracked it. To Four, as he slammed a large, warm hand down on Five’s ass, Rez barked, “Don’t just stand there. Get on your knees and fucking eat it.” Five swallowed a yelp from the blow.

Without protest, Four sank down and rested his large paws on Five’s hips, pausing to rub tender circles in with his thumbs but only for a moment. The deep growl snapped him to attention at the task at hand, and Five started to wonder who really was the dog in this situation, but as soon as he felt it, all thought fell to the back of his mind with a soft splash. Four’s tongue, as always, was heaven. Just like his thumbs, he licked into him in small, soft circles, gently working him up to a hysteria, one that made his eyes roll back and his open mouth slacken against Rez’s pant-leg. The hand in his blonde tendrils held him there, face buried in the mobster’s lap, stifling his moans. When he turned his head to the side and feverishly glanced up, a forest of piercing green stared down at him, irises glazed in hunger.

“Feels that good, huh?” Rez remarked, his hand, smoothing through Five’s hair, moving down to grip his jaw. “I’m almost jealous.” Suddenly, he moved in close, and Five nearly stiffened. Rez’s lips mouthed against the soft skin behind his ear as he droned threateningly, “Don’t come. Not until I say so. Understand?” The sensation of Four’s tongue laving against him blurred Five’s vision, leaving him incoherent and nodding blindly in compliance. A chuckle and then, “Good boy.” The pat on the cheek was more condescending than tender, and Five instinctively flinched with every hit.

Tossing a bottle of lube to Four, Rez ordered, “Work him open for me. I want him easy.”

Four wasted no time and the first finger that made its way in ushered a whorish, louder than usual keen from Five, who finally managed to move his upper limbs and tighten them around Rez’s legs. Perhaps he liked that, Five realized once he heard the buckle of his belt coming undone and the distinct, obscene sound of Rez rubbing himself down. Before he had any time to size him up or wait for another order, Rez decided not to give him one and instead used the fist in Five’s hair to swiftly guide him down on his fully erect, leaking cock. Five hardly had any time to steel his gag reflex, and laughter from more than one man in the room erupted from the sound of him choking on the thick member down his throat.

Rez groaned at the warm, wet mouth wrapped around him and glanced down at the spectacle of Four’s tongue in Five’s ass. He almost laughed but settled for a devious sneer as both his and Four’s eyes happened to meet. This was power to him; he had the power and he held the whip. He knew that Four knew as well, as a dog well trained like he mentioned before that, with just the snap of his fingers, he would be on his knees begging, anticipating for his next command. Rez relished that, even with this punishment, even with the restraint of not blowing him into a grease stain in his basement. He relished Four’s tongue and fingers working Five open for his own enjoyment, for his pleasure.

His kitten made wet, slurping sounds beneath him, and he felt him add his tongue, pressing along the underside like he was trying to get him to come way too early for his liking. That wouldn’t do. Rez sneered and pulled him up abruptly, Five’s sweet, supple lips leaving his cock with a loud, filthy pop. To Four, he demanded, “Enough. Get me a condom.” His guard dog obeyed with a small cursory glance his way but no words uttered. Five however, gazed up at Rez on his hands and knees with a perfect, doe-eyed demeanor, awaiting further orders. Spit and pre-cum smeared the lip gloss around his mouth and chin, and from how far down his throat he had him, his mascara and eyeliner ran in perfect tear streaks. Fuckable. Absolutely fuckable.

With his thumb smearing more of the mess across his lower lip, Rez leered at him with, “Turn around. Ass up.”

Five practically leaned into the small touch but remained docile, turning and getting down on his elbows and knees, low enough to allow Rez to appreciate the goods.

“Perfect, babydoll. You still can’t come. Not until I say so.”

Somehow, Five knew he wouldn’t come tonight.

Four’s boots reluctantly stepped back past Five’s head, and he watched him go, his last bit of safety and security before the lion’s den. And the head of the den pawed at him curiously, warm palms sliding up his back and moving back down to grasp his hips. Five heard the deep rumbling from the back of Rez’s throat and felt all too much like a gazelle under the predatory gaze. It frightened him, but he could not deny that it aroused him as well, as though he anticipated every touch Rez would offer him, how hard the blows would be, how soft his caresses, how deep he would go. Five realized suddenly that this would be the first time for Rez to fuck him. He had never taken him before but merely remained the silent voyeur, watchful and all powerful. Five’s skin crawled deliciously, and he very nearly forgot that Rez most likely had a punishment in mind for him as well. He actually didn’t think he minded that.

At the slick sensation of Rez’s lubed cock prodding his ass, Five sucked in a breath and steeled himself for the stretch, but the former seemed to be stalling, warm hands roaming his flesh above his own throbbing cock and sneaking down less than subtly to stroke his inner thighs. Rez teased him because he could, because it was not Five’s job to come- not unless a customer ordered him to, and Five sorely accepted that that would not be in the forefront of Rez’s thoughts tonight.

“That feel good?” The honey overpowered the vinegar, and Five bit down on his lower lip just to keep from moaning in response. The chuckle seemed to vibrate over his body. “You don’t have to tell me. I know.” He practically _heard_ the smirk, but the hands caressing his skin made his ears grow foggy. The back of his neck went from hot to cold, and the sound of his breath echoed with every intake and exhale. Regardless of whether or not he could come, Five knew with just a glimmer of resentment that Rez would do anything and everything to make him want it. And right now, after being so worked up from Four’s tongue and Rez’s lilting words, Five wanted it.

Rez felt thick when he pushed in, and Five forced himself to suppress the whine and swallowed it back down despite the lump that had begun to form with it. There was a sting and then a slight burn, and he mentally cursed at the tiniest whimper that managed to escape. And Rez heard it. Of course he did. The abrupt stall in his movements told him so, and the click of the tongue came soon after.

“That was precious, babydoll,” he purred, and Five felt his hipbones press into his ass before he realized he was all the way in. He nearly choked, and his cock twitched. “Let me hear more? Or would you rather have something else to occupy your mouth?” No one expected the loud, tight-lipped whine and neither did Five. With a dangerously soft laugh, Rez continued, “I’ll take that as a yes.” A few more thrusts and he barked, “Manson!”

“Boss.”

“Unload your piece and hand it to Sköld.”

Manson did not dare disobey this time, and Five heard the bullets clink to the floor and flinched automatically.

Sköld, on the other hand, upon hearing his name, rose gracefully from his seat and took the gun without a word, but Five, bleary-eyed, watched his lips curl and noticed the swagger in his step when he approached him. Seemed he didn’t need an order to know exactly what to do. Five eyed him, cheek pressed into the floor, until Rez’s fist made its way into his hair. Grabbing hold of a tuft of the blonde tendrils, Rez gave a soft tug, firm enough to make him obey yet gentle enough to keep him grounded, and Five docilely raised his head to meet the barrel and muzzle of the gun head on. For another five grand, he decided this was worth it.

“Open.”

Sköld’s voice, dry yet syrupy sweet, infiltrated his senses, but all Five saw was the gun and did as he was told, shivering at the soft gasp from the former when he saw him take it in fluidly, effortlessly. Like a cock. Five almost smiled. Instead, he played up the theatrics, grateful that the goddamn thing wasn’t loaded and wrapped his lips around the barrel with a soft, breathy moan.

“Jesus Christ, that’s it,” Sköld smirked, in awe of him. “Suck it like you’re sucking me off. You’ve done it before. Show me again.”

Five licked into the muzzle, offered it a little kiss, and then took it back in avidly, a more guttural groan breaking from him once Rez fucked into him again and started up a slow, measured pace.

“Bet you’re awfully grateful this thing isn’t loaded, huh?” Sköld’s eyes glittered ravenously, and he began to move the weapon in soft, short, deliberate motions back and forth in Five’s mouth. “Grateful I wouldn’t just pull the trigger and unload down your throat? I bet this makes you hard.”

Swiftly, Rez bent over and reached down in between Five’s legs, quite pleased with the muffled grunt he received. “I’d say you have your answer,” he sneered.

It wasn’t courage that made Five pull away from the weapon and turn his head to look back at the harsh-looking man fucking him. He wouldn’t dare otherwise. It was need, and he was starting to beg. “I’m going to come if you keep-”

“No. No you won’t,” Rez retorted sharply. He waved Sköld away, who promptly handed a begrudged Manson back his gun, and grasped Five’s forearms, forcing him up and setting a more rough pace. At this rate and angle, Five wasn’t sure if he could hold out for much longer, and the loud keen told everyone in the room. By the heaving pants Rez made behind him, he appeared as far along as he was, maybe farther. His thrusts snapped, in and out, back and forth, hipbones meeting Five’s ass repeatedly and the obscene noise of skin slapping against skin reaching Five’s ears. They grew sloppy, and Rez sounded nearly dazed and desperate as he managed an order directed at Four this time.

“Watch him. I want to know the moment he comes.”

That sounded dangerous, and Five’s face reddened when his eyes met Four’s, the latter’s face set and resuming the same demeanor as when he first met him. He wouldn’t fuck around again. Five bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and held back as much as he could.

When Rez finally came, he growled long and deep, which shrank to a satisfied purr, bucking up into Five like an animal and gripping his throat, not enough to restrict airflow but just to hold him back against his chest. He was claiming him in front of every man in the room who wanted him and by the sounds of his pants and breathy sighs, Rez certainly enjoyed letting them know this way as though he was marking his territory by spilling his spunk into Five.

“Stay on your knees,” he demanded calmly while cleaning and tucking himself back into his pants. Seconds later, Five whined pitifully at the quick squeeze from behind. “Oh, _good boy_. Though not good enough for me to let you come tonight.” Five almost protested, the ache mocking him at those words. “I’d say you’re free to go unless you’re willing to take the rest of your punishment.”

Five eyed him warily.

“For an extra five grand, of course.” Rez sauntered disinterestedly back to his normal chair and sank down like it was a throne. Running a hand through his slightly sweaty hair, he drawled on, “And I may even allow you to come as an extra reward.” The triumphant gleam in the forest of his eyes when he looked at him told Five he already knew the answer. He crooked a finger, beckoning him, and Five crawled after, certain that his eager submission would win him a point or two. The hand clenched around his jaw forced him to look up, and Rez’s face was inches from his own, lips mouthing at his, tongue curling over the bottom lip.

“I’ve got a whole theme park filled with red delights for you.” The grin came shortly after. “Up.”

Somehow, at this height and towering over Rez, Five felt more exposed than he’d ever been.

Rez studied him with his hands, eyes raking over his body and landing on his aching cock. “You’d look pretty with some rope burn.” Five swallowed.


	15. Black Widow of La Porte Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuckhead.
> 
> Don't know who I'm referring to? Fuck around and find out.

With a steely gaze, Rez observed his creation over the rim of his glass. What a pretty sight it was, pretty and obscene. His plaything practically stood on his toes, wrists bound by handcuffs and strung up, reaching towards the ceiling. Rez’s eyes raked over his lithe, pale body, admiring his ink along the way. He took him in slowly, slow enough that he felt the heat from his gaze. Out of that, all he received was a small twitch, but his toy remained still, eyes covered and lips muffled with a ball gag.

Rez sneered and set down his glass. When he approached him, the pretty little thing gave a small grunt from the back of his throat and nothing more. “At least struggle a little for me,” he murmured, running a single finger down his bare chest, tracing his tattoos. “Mm… soft and smooth. You’re trembling. I can feel it with just one touch. Are you scared of me?”

Five, bound in gear and strung up like meat in a slaughterhouse, failed to respond fast enough. He felt the air shift right before he felt Rez’s palm strike his cheek, not hard enough to send him backwards but firm enough to keep his attention. With a whimper, Five snapped back, facing where he assumed was the right way and wishing he could actually see Rez to anticipate his next move. Without his eyes, the sting of the blow felt harsher, Rez’s breath felt hotter, and Five felt himself get harder. Hard enough for Rez to notice him slightly straining against the cuffs. He chuckled.

“That’s much better,” he snickered. “Give me a little show, slut. You’re not going anywhere, and you know it.” The last sentence, growled into his ear, gave Five shivers, the kind that fanned out over every inch of his body. He gave in finally and yanked on the chains, twice for desperate effort and to humor his boss for the night a little. Rez seemed quite pleased regardless, and Five trembled at the surprisingly soft and tender kiss to his cheek. The dark laughter followed. “Much, _much_ better, angel. You realize there are rewards for good behavior, right? Good.” The hand at his chest only moved down further, tickling him, and Five made a wet, choked sound behind the gag when he felt that same hand clutch his hardened length. And the cock ring, snugly fit around the base and his balls, obviously did nothing to make him feel more comfortable.

“Just look at you.” This time, Five heard the condescending click of Rez’s tongue. Two fingers sloppily, carelessly wiped away the dribbling spit from his mouth and gag. “Already making such a _mess_.” Now wet fingers found both of his nipples, thumbs soothing the sensitive flesh. Five’s breath hitched, and he instinctively shied away from the touch, but another harsh slap kept him in place. “ _Hold still_ ,” Rez muttered dangerously through grit teeth.

When Five dared to move again, shaking his head, he anticipated Rez’s next move and flinched at the hand that grasped his jaw, proceeding to squeeze.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Rez tutted. “What did I just say?” Five assumed he shook his head and heard the disappointment in his honeyed voice, but the vinegar remained, and he knew that Rez had hoped for this. “I suppose you just want to continue with your punishment, huh?”

Five hummed against the ball gag once but stayed silent.

“Been a while since I told you not to come.” With more silence, Rez continued, “Oh, I’m not relenting; I just need you to understand. You are not allowed to come yet. Nod if you understand.”

He gave him no time to come to grips with what he was saying, and Five felt the hand in his hair mechanically moving his head up and down for him. “Good.” The hand became tender then and smoothed through his tendrils. “I’m going to try to make you come, though. And if you do… well, we’ll just have to come up with something else.”

Five tried to swallow, and his jaw began to ache.

“Nod.”

He did so. Rez, somewhat pleased with his compliance, removed his hand from his hair, and Five immediately whined when both hands wound up groping the sensitive parts of his chest again. As soon as he felt nails raking down, the whine became pleading, more high-pitched. The husky sound of Rez’s voice spoke over him.

“These need some clamps,” he smirked, thumb and forefinger indicating his nipples, “but too bad I don’t have a car battery nearby.” As if he could see Five’s muscles tense, Rez chuckled and reassured him, “Kidding, doll. My fingers work _just_ fine.” The stress of the last two words he uttered were followed by the vicious squeeze and twist. The sharp pain ripped a short, muffled cry from the back of Five’s throat only to be soothed by the sudden tender caresses of Rez’s fingers. The latter seemed all too content to bat him around like a cat to a toy, sinking one claw in him just to test him out. With every sound he gave him, Five could vividly sense Rez’s heightened arousal every time he touched him, every time he huffed a warm breath against his neck. His very skin crawled with any contact, and his bound cock twitched and ached, begging for Rez to move his fucking hands down to at least give him some relief.

Of course, this was never about him. His boss’s pleasure came first, and, if Rez so desired, then his.

“Head back,” came the order, and Five tried to obey but the fist in his hair beat him to it, yanking it back so suddenly and at such an angle that he found it rather difficult to swallow even now.

“I said, head _back_ ,” Rez growled, giving another tug for effect. Five only had time to react to the pair of soft lips that formed to his exposed neck, mouthing at his throat ravenously. A guttural groan broke through to Five’s pleading moan, and those lips teasingly moved down, some kisses soft, hesitant, and tender and others somewhat harsh, introducing teeth and tongue. Five moaned longer at the quick nip to his collarbone, yelped at the vicious bite to his chest. Rez’s hands moved with his mouth, but they were far ahead. One palmed his quivering cock, moving up and down and digging in, eager to see him fail sooner than he thought. The other reached around, and a single finger prodded his sore ass, sinking in effortlessly.

Five saw stars behind the black, and he almost wished he spoke up sooner. “Sir… Sir!” He hardly made out the words against the gag and incoherently cursed, feeling the warmth pool in his gut before his stomach tightened and his hips bucked. Rez scoffed but decided not to let go and soothed him with his hands and his voice through his high.

“Am I that good?”

Five only trembled at the sound of his voice, and once the blindfold was removed, his vision blurred as tears met the collected spit that dribbled down his chin. Rez looked more properly dressed then when he had taken him, decked in a starch white collar and tie and slim, black pants. Not only did it make him look even more handsome than he already was, Five shivered at the shameless circumstance; Rez fully clothed while he dominated him, completely naked and exposed. Watching the tears fall however, Rez dropped his guard half an inch, let out a sigh, and took a step towards his plaything. He had just finished removing the gag when Five attempted to right his wrong.

“Sorry-”

“Shh…” Rez soothed, eyes more focused on the task of unchaining him. “I’m not going to kill you, so stop crying. If I killed every pretty thing, I’d have no one to pay. And no one wants money if they’re dead.” Once Five’s arms came down, he stiffened at the kiss to his cheek and then leaned into it. “You just need a break, right? Everyone needs a break. Sköld!”

“Boss?”

The one with the cigarette and the permanent smirk on his face entered the room and waited for orders, hip cocked against the doorframe.

“Get some water for our kitten.” Rez even seemed to pet him like his wavy, blonde tendrils were fur instead of hair, and Five allowed him to; it was a tender gesture to help him come down from his high. When he stopped, it was only to dry his tears, saliva, and sweat.

When Sköld returned, Five downed the water in one go and then looked nervously between the two men. Sköld stood by the door, his cigarette between two fingers, and an unfamiliar expression on his face. He remained calm and collected, only ready to speak if Rez wanted him to. As soon as his eyes flitted to Five, sitting naked on Rez’s bed, flushing timidly by the heat of both of their gazes, his countenance changed. Five swore he saw a brief flash of hunger but mentally brushed it to the side, saving it for later.

After a moment’s silence, he watched Rez crouch down to meet his level, and this time, it wasn’t condescending.

“If you want to stop, say the word and I will have Sköld escort you home tomorrow with ten grand,” he murmured. “A fair price, but I believe you settled for fifteen if you could take the rest of your punishment.” Moving in closer so that his lips nearly touched Five’s ear, Rez rasped, “And I _know_ what a little masochist you are. You love the pain, don’t you?” His final words gave Five shivers, which he noticed, and satisfied, Rez stood and ran a hand through his soft hair again. “Your choice, angel.”

Five hardly knew what caused him to smile up at the dangerous man hovering over him, and the smile alone gave him his answer. Perhaps he accepted that Rez was right, and he would always come crawling back to his house of horrors. Perhaps he merely wished to tame the beast that he and Four had so angrily roused. It took this not to get his head ripped off.

Rez saw the smile and gave one of his own- not a very nice smile. Bent at the waist, he reached and grasped Five by the jaw, thoroughly pleased with the soft hitch of breath. “You,” he said, “are _fucking_ perfect.”

  
  


“Wiggle around for me,” Sköld ordered nonchalantly as he tightened each secure knot.

Five bucked and wiggled his hips and tugged on his arms until Sköld stood back, proud of his work. Like a work of art, coils and coils of rope wound around Five’s forearms and bound them tightly together, held high over his head, and connected to a rung of the headboard. With both knees bent, more rope bound his thighs to his calves and kept his lower half exposed, ass and cock and all for Rez and Sköld’s viewing. Five couldn’t redden any deeper; he was already flushed from the incessant teasing to his cock and the tight squeeze the ring gave his balls and shaft.

“Hands and feet too,” came the next demand. Satisfied, Sköld stroked one finger down the sole of Five’s foot and, pleased with the grunt he received in turn, said, “Good. Let me know if you start to lose feeling.” Taking a long drag from his cigarette, he leaned forward, and Five already knew the next order before it came. He opened his mouth and held back a cough as smoke filled his lungs. Seconds later, Sköld’s lips rested against his own, tongue requesting entrance and venturing inside. It felt like a warm, wet embrace, and Five took it all in with a small, squeaky moan that the man very much enjoyed. A squeeze to his thigh told him so.

Rez’s voice spoke up against the blurring in his ears, and then Sköld was gone, taking a seat in a plush chair that faced the foot of the bed.

“Let’s play a game,” Rez piped up suddenly, eyes carelessly studying his fingernails. “It’s a game you lost, but I thought about it and have decided that I will allow you to start over. With a few qualifications this time.”

Five couldn’t raise his head to see where they were, but he felt their eyes on him, burning into his flesh. Rez spoke again, mechanical wheels turning in his brain, forming something devious. “You still can’t come until I say you can. And if you do, then you will keeping coming until I’m satisfied. To make things a little more interesting, I’ve got a toy to keep you on your toes.”

Something wet and thick prodded his hole, perhaps just slightly larger than Rez’s own cock. Five gasped and squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the familiar sensation of being filled to the brim. Occasionally, Sköld glanced at his face from between his legs and continued to work in the silicone member until just the base remained peering out of his entrance. Already a thin film of sweat had formed on his forehead, and Five whimpered, half in frustration and half pathetically. At this point, he had been teased enough to the point where he wished they would just fucking get on with it.

“The toy’s got a great feature by the way,” Rez chuckled, fingering something small and sleek and black with five or six buttons in his hands. “Let me demonstrate.” Pressing one, he stood up and waited. Suddenly, Five heard a sharp whirring, buzzing noise all too unmistakable, and the gentle yet insistent vibrations deep inside him came just as instantaneously. It remained a dull, soft throb, pulsing ever so against the spot that made him jerk and shudder. Five’s hips rose as though someone was touching him from the inside, and he searched for the hand and fingers that skillfully kept him at beck and call, only mindlessly and futilely humping the air. The dull ache stayed right where it was, no higher, no lower, and just as it came, it left with Five collapsing back down against the mattress with a defeated huff. More chuckles from Rez followed.

“If you can resist for long enough,” he said, settling back in his chair and hovering his thumb over one of the buttons of the remote, “then you win! And you can come. As many times as you like even.” There was a short pause and then, “Or I keep pressing buttons, and then another, and another. And eventually you will beg me to turn it off.”

Five longed to retort back a witty reply but wisely decided against it; Rez would be merciless, more than usual. The latter took his silence as acceptance and pressed a button. The same sensation as before returned to torment him, and Five practically froze, holding his breath as if doing so would keep his arousal at bay. Ruefully, he felt himself at a disadvantage, thoroughly teased before the game began to the point where he would just start to beg. But he kept his mouth shut, save for the small whimper that managed to seep out and reach both the men’s ears. Like music to his own, Sköld responded to it, hovering over Five’s writhing, small frame and groaning inwardly.

“Don’t touch his cock,” Rez warned from his chair. “I’m not that mean.”

“I don’t need to do that to get him off, boss,” Sköld smirked wickedly, tracing his index finger over Five’s quivering lower lip. A quick kiss to his waiting mouth was nothing compared to the open-mouthed kiss he received at his throat, dragging out a tortured, pleasured sigh from him. Sköld hummed against him, apparently pleased with his sounds, but he did not stop there. Gradually, he made his way down Five’s neck, nipping at his collarbones, sucking bruising marks into his flesh, grazing teeth and tongue over his nipples, anywhere except his cock, which needed relief with each searing touch avoiding it.

“Think you’d lose it altogether if I came just a little closer?” Sköld taunted, sneering down at him, lips wet and red from both worshipping and torturing his body. “I’m more than happy to put that to the test.”

All at once, Five felt a hand slide down his tummy, large and warm, and smooth over his hip and pelvic bone, skillfully avoiding his poor, throbbing cock with ease. His first mistake was lifting his hips to meet the sultry touch. Rez’s voice instantly cut through like glass, ending his bliss rather short.

“Oh, you want more?”

Five didn’t have to see for himself if he pressed the next button, and before he could object, the vibrations deep inside him accelerated to a steady, fervent pulse. The bleeding, white-hot heat came as a soft whisper but just enough for Five to whine pitifully, the beginnings of a plea gnawing at his tongue.

Sköld raised his head to glare at his boss. “Spoiled my fun…” he grumbled, and Five heard the snicker.

“Did I say stop?”

The question was condescending, but Sköld grinned, message received, and leaned forward, kissing Five’s inner thigh with a sudden hunger. It wasn’t so much of a kiss as it was a bite, teeth sure to leave an angry mark, tongue and lips sucking at the abused skin. Five’s cock twitched, and he moaned much to his dismay.

He heard Rez hum from his chair, and the pulsing increased, much like the drumming of a restless foot against the floor, the anxious tapping of a fingernail against the hardwood of a table. A choked, rather high-pitched “hah” broke from the back of Five’s throat, and he thrashed on the bed, caring little for upsetting the sheets in his way.

When Sköld returned to his seat, he stabbed his nearly finished cigarette into the ashtray next to him and lit a new one, carelessly flipping his short mop of hair and gracefully crossing his legs while leaning back in his seat. His eyes flitted to his boss as he took a drag. It was Rez’s turn to approach, pressing yet another button as he went and silently relishing the delicious, pleasured, and abrupt cry he got in response. Five’s back arched beautifully and slammed back down, his eyebrows furrowed in desperation and frustration at forcing himself to hold back. Rez took it all in with amusement and crouched low, meeting Five’s gaze as he rested his arms against the edge of the mattress.

“You’re going to say it.” It wasn’t a question, just a statement, a fact, and Rez maintained a calm, cool- rather, cold expression as he stared at him. He pressed another button, and Five looked as though he was going to explode. But only his eyes pleaded with him. His mouth stayed shut, save for the endless string of breathy moans and whines. Rez was surprised he lasted this long. But not forever, he chuckled to himself and reached down to grab Five’s heavy, leaking cock.

“You just want to come, don’t you?” he growled. “Just want to blow your load all over my hand, risk what I’ll do to you after.” Leaning in close so that his feather breath gently tickled Five’s ear, Rez lilted, “Because you’re a painslut.” Rez expected the loud, mewling keen but not the begging that came swiftly after.

“Turn it off!” Five whined, betraying himself entirely to Rez’s game. “Please, sir, turn it off!” Hips lifting from the bed and arms tugging at his restraints, he came, spilling in short spurts over his chest and tummy, some hitting his cheek and chin. As more came, Five’s eyes rolled into the back of his head in ecstasy, eyelids fluttering blissfully. He reflexively flinched and shuddered, looking utterly debauched and wasted, chest heaving, lips parted and ushering out soft, little breaths. Though red in the face and hair drenched in sweat, Five looked obscenely ethereal to Rez, as though he had captured an angel and left him to demons to be played with and tortured relentlessly.

With one press of a button, the toy turned off, and Rez fingered a lock of Five’s hair, feigning tenderness as he came down from his second high that night. “I win.”

  
  


Rez, once he decided that his toy had come enough for one evening, informed him that he had chosen Sköld to be his bodyguard from now on until further notice. Tomorrow, he would be the one escorting him home and driving him back when Rez had need of him again. Five swore he heard him growl under his breath that he didn’t need subordinates touching what didn’t belong to them with their fucking hands. He swallowed hard, nodded, and looked to Sköld, who was busy admiring the rope burn left on his pink flesh. Remembering the heated look he received before, Five softly smiled to himself. It did not remain when they left the room for his own for the night. Four was no where in sight. Perhaps he was merely following orders, but something heavy in the pit of his gut told him Rez had gotten to him first. Jaw tightening, Five wondered how Rez would react if he caught another one sniffing around where he didn’t belong.

He’d be fucking pissed.

Stepping out of the bath and drying off, Five ventured into his bedroom for the night, searching for Sköld, who seemed to have disappeared. Five’s brow furrowed, confused, and wrapping the towel around his waist, he moved to the door. The hallway was entirely empty and still, but when Five turned his head to the side, he saw Sköld standing straight and firm just as the last one had.

Their eyes met briefly, and a satisfied smile broke across Five’s lovely face. Then he straightened, backed away.

Left the door open.

Dropped the towel.

Got into bed.

The short slam would have startled him, but he only batted a soft, lazy gaze Sköld’s way. The man stood there, arms crossed in the worst, most defensive position imaginable, and raised an eyebrow at him. He did not appear angry, only mildly amused, mouth twitching as if he would grin. Steely, lidded eyes filled with something akin to lust raked over Five’s body, up and down and then settled at his own eyes. Five’s smile widened. After a moment, frozen between their gaze, Sköld huffed a breath, rolled his eyes, and carelessly shrugged. He reached in his pocket for a cigarette and his lighter, lit the end, and took a long drag, his stare on Five never faltering. Eyes narrowed briefly, and then he exhaled, the smoke leaving his lungs in elaborate plumes. Then, after wetting his lips and flipping his hair, he spoke.

“You must really love pain.”


	16. break.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love and welts. Someone is due for a hatefuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dedicate this little story to skin-slave on tumblr-dot-hell. A VERY late Christmas present but ya know. Lub ya dude. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! <3

“You’re awfully cute when you’re concentrating, puppy.”

With one last wrap around, Rez ties the knot neatly and securely because he prefers things to be that way. He proceeds to ignore Brian’s effortless teasing in the process and smiles secretly. He seems so sure of himself, so Rez smirks and gives the ropes wrapped around Brian’s arms and wrists a quick tug. The knot that connects to the rung of the chair holds, and Rez’s smirk deepens as he moves to the front to observe his creation.

Brian’s arms are up and bent behind his head, both wrists tied tight with just enough slack to allow him to shift in his seat. Rez watches the rise and fall of his chest, mesmerized by the movement. His gaze travels then to the smug look on his face, confident and so self-assured. Rez almost visibly smirks, but he swallows it down with a steely expression. As fun as it would be to match that confidence with his own. Rez knows it would only spoil the delicious tension he has built up all day. All week in fact. He also knows that Brian will do anything to make him break.

“Go ahead and get on your knees then, mutt,” his unsuspecting captive leers at him. He spreads his legs wide open and rolls his hips at him obscenely, grinning evilly. “And suck it good for me so we can get this little game of yours over with. We both know you don’t have it in you.” Brian wets his lips almost ravenously and adds, “I think you know who will be the one crawling to who by the end of this.”

Rez’s face is stoic. He breathes in calmly and shrugs. “Hmm…”

Brian catches the light aroma of Rez’s cologne, clean, like soft soap, breathes in deep in time with the latter’s even breaths, and inclines his head to the hand that runs through his long, dark hair as he casually begins to walk by him. The gesture alone is more condescending than loving but it only makes his grin wider. Fingers thread through tendrils over his scalp, grab handfuls, and tug sharply, pulling Brian’s head back. He does not mean to audibly gasp; in fact, he is disappointed with himself for even allowing Rez to hear it. He does hear it of course but instead chooses to ignore it, hiding his satisfaction.

The faucet runs in the bathroom behind him and then shuts off abruptly after. Brian hears Rez hum to himself as he dries his hands and waits, ignoring the quickened pulse of his heart. It is procedural, as though he is waiting for impending surgery or Rez is a serial killer, intending to do something much worse to him. When he focuses on the latter, however, Brian imagines how tender he would be, knife in hand, his free hand running down his cheek condescendingly while the sharpened blade teases his exposed flesh. Brian shivers. Rez is one for the theatrics, and it secretly worries him. He worries he will break at the slightest touch.

He hears him come around again and shifts in his seat. Rez clicks his tongue, and Brian looks up to see a satisfied gleam in his eyes. He rests a hand on the armrest of Brian’s chair and leans forward, a gesture alone that asserts his dominance. Amusement dances in his eyes, and he wets his lips and says in a husky voice, “You look nervous.” Rez’s face is straight, but the corners of his mouth turn upward.

Brian swallows, smiles, and replies easily, “If that’s what you think.”

Staring thoughtfully at him, Rez calculates everything from the inflections in his tone to the restless movements in his seat. He watches the way the muscles in his arms clench, giving his bonds a soft tug. He figures him out.

“Give me a kiss,” he orders and Brian stares, eyes studying his own. Rez’s lips are pink and kissable, the lower puckered in an adorable pout, his cupid’s bow pronounced and arching gracefully. Brian longs to kiss him, and he tilts his head up, waiting. Rez stays put however, the amusement growing on his face as Brian realizes. It is another assertion of dominance, and it is no secret how much smaller Rez is than Brian; the latter outmeasures him by at least a foot. And now Rez turns the tables with Brian exactly how he wants him. “Can you?”

Brian grits his teeth. He is mocking him. “I’m trying,” he says, nearly straining his neck to reach him. In the end, he gives up reluctantly, chest rising and falling.

With a short slap, Rez backs away, and Brian sees the obvious bulge in his pants. “Not hard enough apparently,” he shrugs. “Makes me question how much you actually want this.”

Brian glares at him and wriggles uncomfortably in the chair, but it only makes Rez look more smug. Smug enough to get down on his knees and still feel ten feet tall. “Spread ‘em,” comes the demand, and Brian’s glower becomes a smirk that says ‘do your worst’. Rez returns it with a palm to the crotch, silently triumphing at the soft intake of breath. He hums.

Brian does not make a sound after that, though he grows with every up and down of Rez’s hand cupping him there. The friction is deliciously painful, and Brians holds his breath. He is one to inflict pain and give it to himself as well; never before has Rez taken the lead but despite the fact, Brian begins to realize that Rez likes this more than he thought. The ministrations rubbing him raw and the occasional squeeze tell him so. At one point, he stiffens and Rez sees it.

“Too much?” He sounds like he cares.

Brian regrettably nods, watchfully eyeing Rez get to his feet casually and reach for a pair of latex gloves on the table beside him. Next to those is a switchblade. Brian does not stare at those for too long.

Black and sleek, the gloves fit Rez’s hands perfectly. He kneels in between Brian’s legs once more, and with those gloved hands, nimbly undoes his fly, reaches down past the waistline of Brian’s pants and underwear, and pulls out his half-hard cock. The strange sensation of Rez’s covered hands and the cool air hitting his member makes Brian gasp pathetically, and he hates himself for it. He hates Rez more.

Trying not to allow his voice to come out as a whine, Brian asks, “Why can’t I have your mouth?”

“Because you don’t deserve it,” Rez replies simply. He promptly spits into his right hand and makes a loose fist, sliding it over the head and wrapping around the shaft with ease. Brian inhales through his nose, keeps his lips pressed tight together. His eyelashes flutter, but he watches Rez’s hand skillfully pumping up and down at an achingly slow pace, thinking if he keeps control, he will stay in control. “Feel good?” Rez smiles knowingly.

“Would feel better with your mouth,” Brian mumbles stubbornly.

Shrugging, Rez offers, “Well, I suppose I could always, you know…” He holds up two fingers of his free hand, wiggles them at him teasingly.

“No,” Brian says, that much being certain.

“Suit yourself,” Rez pouts playfully, “but you’re missing out.”

“That’s because you’re so easy, Rez- shit!” Brian hisses.

The sharp squeeze is followed by a harsh slap. “You’re awfully mouthy today,” Rez tuts, spitting into his hand again. Brian steels himself and holds back the whine gnawing at his throat. He always knew Rez’s mouth was heaven, but his hands are a different story altogether, threatening to break him bit by bit until he is nothing but a moaning mess, begging for reprieve or for more. Rez lazily strokes him, marveling over how hard he is now. “Want me to go faster?”

“What do you think?” Brian snaps, barely managing to get the words out and about ready to scream when Rez suddenly stops. “What the fuck, Rez?”

“First of all, you knew what this was going in and secondly,” Rez playfully flicks a finger at his shaft, “don’t be fucking rude or I will stop and we can go for a whole other week. What do you think?”

They stare hard at each other, Brian huffing and Rez waiting, the pinnacle of patience.

“What if I just used one finger to get you off?” Rez muses. “Just one?” On cue, he slides the tip of his index finger up Brian’s length and waits for the impending reaction. Brian stares hard at his hands, at his fingers, lips pressed together firmly, and his chest rises and falls heavily with each shuddered breath he takes. Rez hears it and repeats the gesture, mesmerized by the movements of his chest; he begins to look more and more debauched by the second. The more he does, the more Rez realizes he wants to do terrible things to him.

“Or even my breath?” he says thoughtfully. “I bet if I fucking blew on your cock, you’d come immediately.”

“You’re evil,” Brian says, dumbfounded, as if just now realizing it.

Rez shrugs. “Such is life. Hold still for a second.”

Brian does not see it; he hears it, and every hair on the back of his neck stands on end. A crisp _shnng_ cuts through the air, and Rez brandishes the blade he stole from him, the tip glimmering in the warm light of the bedroom. Then he moves in, and Brian has to remember not to actively breathe him in, entranced by his scent alone. Can’t let him know he is enjoying this. “You think if I cut you up a little, you’ll still be this hard for me?” Brian does not answer, but he does not wish to put that theory to the test. Instead he stares, searching Rez’s eyes, a forest of dark green, and finds something resembling curiosity in there. Curiosity morphs to all seriousness as Rez silently realizes.

Tugging at the collar of his shirt, the knife leaves a tiny knick in the fabric, and Rez’s lips leave a soft kiss against Brian’s cheek. “There,” he says simply. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Brian would have responded with a sharp retort, but Rez’s hands ripping the flimsy fabric down the middle only ushers a short gasp from his parted lips. Shivers come in waves as the cool air hits his skin, and he almost reddens at the exposure. His nipples harden, and Rez hums at the sight. He thumbs over them, feels Brian stiffen, and clicks his tongue, “Sensitive, huh?” Fingers twist flesh, and Brian jumps and flinches, cursing under his breath. “Guess so,” Rez reaffirms, still clutching him between thumb and forefinger for a good five more seconds before letting go. He takes a moment to awe at how red they are, how Brian’s chest heaves, up and down, up and down steadily. His mouth almost waters when he croons, “Want me to make it better?”

At first, Brian does not answer, thinks if he can withstand Rez’s tactics long enough, he can get through this. Rez, however, takes his silence as obstinate and tugs on his flesh again, even more harshly this time, making it clear that he expects an answer.

“Damn it, yes!” Brian finally whines. “Make it better.”

The frustrated whine instantly resolves to a pleasured moan when Rez leans forward and takes a nipple into his mouth. He teasingly soothes the abused flesh with his tongue, making a pleased sound in the back of his throat as Brian trembles against him. The ropes strain but hold him in place, and he feels as though he can burst out of his skin.

“You wanna come?” Rez asks breathily, moving to the other and offering the same treatment. His hands go to work as well, slowly, deliberately pumping up and down on Brian’s swollen cock.

There is no answer once again, and Rez slowly raises his head to look at him in reprimand. “You want to play this game with me again? All right.”

Wind escapes Brian’s lungs as the blow knocks his head to the side, and he has no time to recover as a second slap to his cock has him cursing. The curse becomes a pained chuckle, and Rez waits, standing up and over him this time.

“You fucking brat,” Brian murmurs between titters.

Rez smiles, not a very nice smile and says, “If pain was what you really wanted, then you should have said so.” He backhands him, wonders if he is somehow enjoying this more than him, and grabs him by the chin, thumbing at the forming, angry welt on his cheek. “I’ll ask you again. Do you want to come?” Rez’s voice is low and chillingly calm, the chills coming in waves over Brian’s skin. His eyelids flutter as pleasure meets the pain with Rez’s hand once more on his dick, bringing him closer to the brink in satisfying strokes.

“What do you think?” Brian means to sound confident, maybe even a little smug, but his voice wavers and Rez hears it.

“I think,” Rez says, releasing Brian and moving in to straddle his waist, “that I’m going to break you.” His nose mashes against his, lips brushing, mouthing, barely even touching Brian’s, and he smiles, feeling the latter strain to reach him, yearning for a single kiss. “I’m going to _fucking_ break you,” Rez breathes, practically moaning with him. He takes ahold of his cock, pumping so rapidly that Brian nearly chokes on the short cry that escapes. If he continues like that, he will come, plain and simple, and Rez will win this little game easily. Rez knows how hard he is fighting, and it more than amuses him. He is enthralled. He slows his hand, and then he hears what he does not expect to hear, even after all this time.

A soft whimper bursts form Brian’s quivering lips before he can stop it.

“What do you need, kitten?” Rez’s voice is soft and gentle, a stark contrast from his usual huskiness.

“Mmm…” Brian sounds like he is protesting through closed lips and shakes his head.

Rez strokes a nipple, moves down to flick his tongue against the other, and Brian’s balls tighten, so much that they start to ache. He can just burst. “Hmm?” Rez inquires, moving back up to face him. Brian looks more than wrecked; he looks desperate. “Enough?”

When he stops altogether, Brian lets out a sob, and Rez wonders if he made him cry. Brian bucks up, fucking nothing but air, and Rez stares at the display, eyeing his victim with a clear expression that tells him who has won. Wrapping his fingers around Brian’s pulsing cock, he waits, expecting what inevitably follows after his question.

“What do you need?”

“I need you to make me come,” Brian says without a beat, voice soft and vulnerable and needy. His mouth and eyes and the straining of his muscles beg Rez until finally he indulges.

The sound that follows is more than a moan or whine. It is animalistic, strangled, mingling with the click sounds of Rez’s hand bringing him to sweet, sweet release. Brian’s eyes roll, and Rez coos as he collapses in the sear he is tied to, leaning forward to whisper sweet nothings and encouragement in his ear. He just wants to feel the stuttered heaving of his chest against his own; that in and of itself is almost erotic enough, and Rez’s mouth waters at the sharp intake of breath followed by the soft, delicate moan. He wants to taste it, rip it from his throat, and crawl his way inside just to hear him come from within.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, grabbing a fistful of Brian’s long, dark hair with his free hand and yanking his head back. In one final assertion of dominance, Rez bites down hard into Brian’s exposed neck, not hard enough to break skin, but just enough to leave an indented, bruising mark, laying claim to him. He relishes the mix of pain and pleasured whines that come with Brian’s flesh trembling beneath his teeth.

When Brian comes, it comes hot and thick over Rez’s gloved hand, and he moans with him into his throat as soon as he feels it. Brian curses repeatedly between gasps, curses in ecstasy, in pain when the pleasure and the shudders become too much to bear. He hears Rez chuckle against him, finally breaking character and revealing how much he longed to witness this unconventional state of him.

Eventually, he stops, only lazily rubbing Brian’s shaft with his palm just to feel him twitch and jerk against him. Brian spasms and moans in aftershocks, brow furrowed and wet lips parted, and Rez watches, easing him through his high with gentle croons and tender caresses that send shivers up his spine and down to the small of his back. With a soft kiss to the prominent and impressive bite marks on the side of his neck, Rez lets go of his hair and removes the soiled, latex gloves.

The stars he saw fade to mere, sparking embers, and Brian smiles blissfully. “Mm, puppy…” he murmurs under his breath with deep, shuddering sighs, one after the other.

Rez smirks and removes himself from Brian’s lap to stand over him. The way he looks now with his dark mop of hair framing his face and his green eyes, green as envy piercing down at him, Brian longs to kiss him now and return what he left on his neck. But Rez still holds the whip.

“I think I deserve that kiss now,” he says with a smile. Thumb brushes lower lip and with lidded eyes, Brian leans in. He is met with a hand to his throat and quickly sucks in a short breath before Rez decides to squeeze.

Looking into those eyes now that yearn for him to continue to squeeze, perhaps squeeze just a little bit harder, Rez gives a husky sigh and bends down to press his lips against Brian’s tenderly, condescendingly. He feels his quickened pulse beneath his fingers, runs his thumb along the bite mark, and smiles against his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Be sure to leave kudos and comments if you liked it!  
> Thanks to those of you have supported me through all of this. You know who you are. <3  
> Edit:  
> Hi there. A lot has happened since I wrote these. One person portrayed in these stories has been outted as an abuser.  
> I do not condone. Please keep that in mind when you read and know that the personality portrayed is not a direct representation of the actual personality.  
> Thank you.


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